


Angelic Family

by kiiriminna



Series: Supernatural Family [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Family, Pre-Castiel/Dean Winchester, References to Norse Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 50,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10658682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiiriminna/pseuds/kiiriminna
Summary: Fresh on earth, Castiel meets ann strange angel at St. James Park - and is soon pulled in his very unorthodox family-unit.This is spin-off for my other story, The Unholy Family, and it covers up Castiel's part of the story, as well as that long period of time before The Unholy Family started during the season 7. Castiel's and Crowley's relationship plays a big part here. Contains some cameos from Norse mythology. Will be destiel, eventually. Probably.





	1. Of Ducks and Ineffable

**Author's Note:**

> Castiel visits St. James's Park and meets someone unexpected. This happens after the Apocalypse-that-didn't-happen and before Castiel goes to save Dean from Hell.

The Earth was… confusing. Everything seemed to happen too fast, too disorderedly… too chaotically. And all those humans, with their wants and lusts and _feelings_ … so sure about themselves, about their importance… yet so fragile. So precious.

Castiel enjoyed watching them. It was intriguing, to see them go around, minding their daily business… Never really stopping to think about what an unordinary wonder it was that they existed on this planet, that of all the species God had chosen them, set them apart from rest of them…

He wanted to understand it. It wasn't that Castiel was questioning their Fathers wisdom – no matter what Uriel had once implied – but that he was sure that by watching them he could find out what it was that God had seen in them that was so exquisite that he had ordered His angels to look after them. If he only could see it, wouldn't that mean that he would learn to appreciate them even more because of it?

"Did you come to feed the ducks, too?" someone asked with a kind voice, shaking Castiel out of his ponderings. He raised his head and saw a pleasant-looking man with a blond hair smiling at him. He was sitting on a bench, next to the one that Castiel himself had sat down before he had gotten lost in his thoughts, and was tossing crumbs of bread from a paper bag to the ducks in the pound.

"…Excuse me?" Castiel asked.

The man laughed with what might have been embarrassment. "Oh, forgive me! You just looked so… I mean… You had this lost look upon your face… like you were trying really hard to figure something out." The man smiled little apologetically. "I'm sorry; it wasn't my place to intrude."

"No, it's alright", Castiel assured. "…Why would I feed ducks?"

The blond shrugged. "That's what I do, when I need to think something. It's… relaxing. It helps me to remember what's said in the Bible, about flock of birds and how we should not worry about tomorrow since it's all in God's hands… always."

Castiel nodded. "Yes, it is."

They sat in silence, watching the ducks eating, till the man spoke again. "It's ineffable", he said.

"…? What is?" Castiel asked, abashedly.

"Everything; this world, people… nice cup of tea and a good book… It's all ineffable. And it's something that is worth to be protected." The man stood up and tossed the now empty paper bag in to a trashcan.

Castiel felt even more confused. "Wait… Did you know what I was thinking about?" he asked. "…How? Who are you?"

The man smiled tenderly. "I knew, what you were thinking, because I, too, have had same thoughts before, and that's the answer I came up with. It's not epoch-making or revealing, but it's enough for me. You may find it defective and that may be true; maybe we all have to find our own answers. And what comes to who I am… I… I'm retiree." He smiled wistfully. "I know I may have made mistake by talking to you; there are many upstairs who aren't pleased with me right now."

Castiel frowned. "Are you a fallen?" he asked, starting to feel little suspicious.

The man smiled again, his eyes full of sincerity as he answered, "I've always been true to Him." He turned around and started to walk away. "Feel free to come again as often as you feel; I'll know when you're here."

The man had already vanished from his sight before Castiel realized that he had never really answered his question; and as he tried to find where he had gone, it was like he had just disappeared into thin air.


	2. Of Fears and How to Deal with Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just before leaving to rescue the Righteous Man from Hell, Castiel pays another visit to St. James Park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that Castiel needs someone to listen to him every now and them - someone who he isn't on charge of, or who won't judge him for thinking instead of just believing.

Maybe it was because he was afraid – flattered, of course, yet still so, so scared – about failing, about losing his nerve… about dying. Going to Hell to rescue the Righteous Man was, although noble and just thing to do, still very dangerous mission, and while he didn't need to go there alone, he was still the one in charge. Those brothers and sisters were trusting in him – what if he wouldn't be worth it?

So Castiel was back at the St. James Park, hoping to meet again the strange angel he had encountered at the last time. He had mixed feelings about that – since he didn't know the strangers name or even if he was one of the fallen – his answer hadn't really cleared that out – or a rogue angel, wanted for some kind of crime; because for what else reason would the Heaven be displeased with him?

He knows that he should had mentioned the angel to his superiors, yet somehow he had felt reluctant to do that. The angel had been so… sure about himself. There was this feeling of peace and easiness around him, like he had found his place in this world and was contend with it. The warmth in his eyes and smile had bring back memories from far away past, about the Heaven, before Lucifer had been fallen…

"Hello…? I see you're back. What ever troubles you, dear?"

The angel sat on the same bench that he had been sitting on at the last time. The look on his face was curious, yet tactful, and there was deep compassion in his eyes that made Castiel immediately feel more relaxed.

"I wanted to talk with you, brother", Castiel answered.

The angel nodded graciously. "Then I'm here to listen, brother."

Later Castiel would not been able to explain what in those words and the sincere tone that they were said on made him confess everything. His every fear, worry and self-doubt was dragged out and presented to the other angel, who didn't say anything but looked at him with so much gentleness and acceptance in his eyes.

"I'm scared, brother", Castiel concluded, his voice raw and ragged. "What if I fail them? What if I fail Him?"

The angel kept silent, pondering everything he had heard. The he said, "You wont."

"But how can you know?" Castel cried out. "How can you be so sure that I wont?"

The angel smiled at him. "Cause you're going to do your best."

Castel turned his head away. "Yeah, like that would be enough", he said. There was something growing in his chest; an ugly, bitter feeling he didn't like. It made him feel unclean.

"It is!" the strange angel insisted. "It's all that anyone can ask for." He raised up, walked to Castiel's side and sat down again, pulling him in to a hug. "As long as we believe in ourselves, it's all going to be alright. He sees all, dear, and His love is endless. If He choose you, then that must mean that He has seen something in you that is essential to His plan – even if you can't see it by yourself."

"But I'm afraid", Castiel whispered. Being hugged was… strange experiment, to say… but not unpleasant one. It made that ugly feeling inside his chest to simmer down.

"Of course you are, dear boy!" the angel said. "You're going to Hell, after all… Even Michael would be afraid to go there. He would be afraid, and he would pray Father to guide him, and still he would go… because he's brave. And so are you, dear." Gentle hand brushed Castiel's hair. "I… I wouldn't be able to do it. Not for someone I haven't met, not for a stranger… And He knows that, and forgives me my weakness. Dear, He would never ask this from you did He not think that you would succeed."

"You speak about Him so freely… Have you ever met him?" Castiel asked, wonder in his voice.

"Our Father? … Yes, of course." The angel sounded surprised by his question, and continued, worriedly, "Haven't you…?"

Castiel shook his head. "Never. Only his most trusted gets to meet Him nowadays."

"Oh. How… unfortunate."

Castiel raised his head from the angels shoulder and looked him at the eyes. "You haven't been in heaven for a very long time, I suppose."

The angel smiled sadly. "Not once in six thousand years", he confessed.

Castiel felt his eyes widen. "But that would be-!"

The angel nodded. "Ever since the Garden, yes." He fell in silence for a moment before continuing, "I was guardian of the Easter Gate. After Gadreel let the snake in, and humans were banished… Father asked me to stay, to guard the Gates… and watch over humanity."

"That must had been lonely", Castiel muttered.

To his surprise, the angel shook his head. "Oh, it wasn't that bad…" he assured. "I'm afraid that during the years, I may have gone little… native." There was a gentle smile on his lips, like he was thinking fondly about something… or someone.

"Ah… I see." And he did. Thought it was frowned upon, there were rumors about angels falling in love with humans running in the Heaven every now and then. And while it certainly wasn't encouraged in any way, it also wasn't strictly forbidden, at least unless there were children – Nephilim - involved.

 _He must have a lover, then_ , Castiel thought, feeling little disturbed, but not enough to shy away from the angel's arms. _No wonder that he wants to stay under the Heaven's radar._

The angel hugged him once more before saying, "You'll make it. I promise."

There was something in the angel's voice that made it impossible for Castiel to not believe him. He sounded as if he would personally make sure that everything would go fine.

Castiel sighed and said, "You have so much trust in me, while you don't even know my name." Pulling back, he looked the angel eye to eye before saying, "My name is Castiel."

The angel smiled. He stood up and offered his hand, just like humans did when they introduced themselves. "Castiel… I'm Aziraphale."

Standing up, Castiel took the offered hand.

"It's been pleasure… Aziraphale."


	3. Of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has just came back from Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter became far longer than I intended it to be... I hope that it still holds up. 
> 
> Hell is presented like it was in season 8, when Sam went there to fetch Bobby's soul. I know that's not accurate during seasons 4 & 5, but then again, they really didn't show lot of it back then, so I'll go with that anyway.

He was back at the park. The warmth of the sun seeped into his borrowed bones and filled him with gratefulness for being able to feel it again. Down there, in Hell, he had been near to lose his hope to ever return back here… yet here he was. He had, indeed, returned, and his mission had been affirmed being successful – but what about all those brothers and sisters who had followed his lead, never returning…?

"Castiel! Oh, dear, I've been so worried about you!"

Castiel turned around. "Aziraphale", he greeted, as the chubby angel rushed at his side. "It's good to see you."

Aziraphale smiled back at him, and his eyes seemed quite a… wet. _Tears_ , Castiel remembered. _There's tears in humans eyes when they are sad; it's called crying._ "Are you sad?" he asked.

Aziraphale looked puzzled. "Eh? Why, why would I be?"

"But you're crying."

Now Aziraphale laughed. It was a nice laugh, and Castiel couldn't help smiling, too. "Oh no, dear boy! I'm not sad; quite a opposite. You see, there are many kinds of crying: people cry, when they are sad, but also of happiness, or pain, or relief…"

"Humans are complicated", Castiel summed up. "And messy."

Aziraphale grinned. "That, too." The angel seemed to be full of energy, so much that he was almost pouching around. "And I see that you've gotten a new vessel."

"Jimmy Novak, yes… He's a good man."

Aziraphale nodded solemnly. Was it only Castiel's imagination, or was there something – reproving? – in his eyes right now? "I hope that everything will work out for you two", he said. "For me – last time I had to use a vessel, it was… distressing. I'm relieved that I was resurrected, afterwards…"

"Resurrected? You don't have a vessel?" Castiel questioned. He had never heard about angel surviving outside of Heaven without a vessel.

"…Um, no. This… body I use was made for me by our Father."

Castiel was astonished. "I've never heard about something like that", he confessed.

"Well, it was long time ago – and I believe it hasn't been done since then. As Father sent me here to stay, He must have wanted to make things for me easier as I have no need to seek now vessels every few dozen years or so…" Aziraphale said, blushing. "Um. Would you like to feed ducks with me?" he asked.

Castiel made an effort to smile. "That would be… pleasure."

* * *

"It's… peaceful here", Castiel said as he watched ducks swimming around. "When I came back – I needed to come here."

"I've been trying to not pry", Aziraphale started, "about your… mission, but – well, if you want to talk about it or… I'm here for you, Castiel."

He fell silent for a moment. Then, "I made it out, and I dragged Dean Winchester – the Righteous Man – with me."

"Well, that's –"

"Everyone else died."

Beside him, Aziraphale flinched.

"All of them – whole garrison – and only I came back." His voice had gone monotone. "I… I don't know how I should feel. The mission was successful – everyone says so – and I should be satisfied, but… I knew them, Aziraphale. I knew their names, I could tell them apart for every other angel in Heaven – and now they're gone."

"What – what did your superiors say about it? When you reported to them?" Aziraphale asked.

"That they fulfilled their purpose", Castiel answered. "That they gave their life happily –"

"- for greater good", Aziraphale mumbled.

Castiel tilted his head. "I'm quite sure they didn't use those specific words…"

"Oh! It's – it's a phrase, from a book that was quite popular few years back. The meaning behind it is that some – _questionable_ things are allowed if you have good intentions." As Castiel frowned, he hurried to add, "Not that I'm criticizing anyone, Heavens, no! It just… came to my mind." He looked horribly flustered, so Castiel decided to leave it be.

"How do you always know when I'm here?" he asked instead. "You seem to appear as soon as I do."

"Oh, I life nearby… Would you like to visit, sometime? I could make some tea…"

"We don't need nourishments, brother", Castiel reminded.

"Well, technically, no, but I've come to find it quite pleasant", Aziraphale answered. "Tea has this wonderful, relaxing quality… Ah, forgiven me; my… other friend says that if I start talking about tea, I can't stop before everybody around me has gone in coma due boredom."

Castiel nodded. "This friend of yours… Is he the reason why you try to stay unnoticed by Heaven? I know that affairs between angels and humans can be… frowned upon."

To his surprise, Aziraphale just laughed sadly. "Oh, Castiel… That would make it so much easier, should he be human…" Before Castiel had time to question more, he continued, "If you don't mind me asking… Are you well? I mean, well in, um, physical sense. I've got some experiment about fighting demons, and things can get very… harsh. It's indeed a miracle that you got out of there in the first place!"

Castiel thought about it. _Miracle… more likely service from devil._

In his memory, he travelled back to Hell…

*****

**Flashback**

*****

…Smell of sulfur, companied by reek of blood – lakes of it - in steaming hot air… Corridors after corridors after corridors _(don't stop keep walking walk walk walk)_ … Screams everywhere, tormented, racked screams filling his head _(don't listen)_ … Bodies of his friends - his siblings – left to lay where they had died _(alone I'm alone all gone gone dead)_ …

He had lost all sense of direction, and could only continue on his path, fighting whenever he tumbled to group of demons, and hiding inside empty cells to gather his strengths…

Why was he still alive? Was it because they knew he was now alone? Were they playing with him, thinking he was too weak to cause real damage…?

_I need to find him… I need to find him, I need to get back…_

Footsteps, coming towards him. Castiel braced himself and raised his demon blade; getting ready for another fight…

"Oh, Alaistair; did you not hear the call?" someone said then; someone with a smug, smooth voice.

"Crowley", another voice growled, irritatedly. "What do you want?"

"Oh, many things, thank you for asking; but at this moment, it's not about us, darling. Lilith has asked all higher-ups to gather up – we are having development meeting."

"I'm not interested –"

"Tut, tut, Alastair! I didn't come here to ask you to come; I came here to _ask_ you to come." The tone made is clear that _asking_ was anything but that.

"You're commanding me around, salesman?" angry voice demanded; there was a noise that suggested that someone had just been pushed against wall.

"Mmm, I like it rough… But strictly speaking, I've got my orders from Lilith – who, at this moment, is in lead." Demon's voice became gloating, as he continued, "Beside, things aren't looking all that good to you, right now – I heard that your boys are still having troubles to capture that one angel…"

"It's not my fault that Lilith weakens manpower down here to look for the Seals!"

"Are you criticizing her? She wouldn't like that…"

Very tense silence. Then, "You better watch your back, you Irish idiot… your lover can't protect you forever."

"I'm Scot, you moron", other demon muttered, but was ignored.

"What is this development meeting, anyway? We haven't had those before…"

"Clearly; Oh, and how is Dean-o? I heard that he has some mad skills…"

"Indeed", the other demon acknowledged, this time barely hiding his pride. "He has proved to be rather talented in the art of torture."

"Oh, nice; though that wasn't what I was talking about – I heard that dear Dean Winchester is great at sack…"

_Dean Winchester. The Righteous Man._

Castiel sneaked closer, daring to peek in the corridor behind the corner. The two demons were standing there, taller one having his back turned towards Castiel.

"You're repulsive", the taller one hissed to his companion, who simply shrugged.

"Potts, kettles, black", shorter one said. "Which room it was – CDXXVI? Maybe I should visit him later…"

Castiel didn't listen more; quickly he checked the numbers of nearest doors. CDXIIX… next to it was CDXIX… then CDXX…

 _It's near_ , Castiel thought, feeling a sliver of hope growing inside him. _I was already this close…_

The voices of two demons subsided as they started walking away. Castiel kept counting doors. _CDXXI… CDXXII… CDXXIII…_ \- around the corner - _CDXXIV… CDXXV…_

CDXXVI.

_I did it._

Castiel knew that he had no time to waste – he had to crab the Righteous Man and get out as swiftly as possible. He opened cell's door, peeking inside.

There was a …man, chained on the table, and another man who had slit his head open and was now sticking needles inside his brains.

Without turning around, the man said, "I'm busy, Alastair. Find someone other to play the "bad cop, worse cop" with you."

While he had never heard that voice before, Castiel recognized it. "I'm not Alastair, Dean Winchester. I'm angel of the Lord, and I've been sent to get you back."

The man turned around and looked at him before sneering and saying, "Okay, I don't know whose idea of good joke this was, but I for sure am not falling to it. Now scram and leave me to –"

Castiel had no time for explanations. He crabbed Dean's arm, his grace burning – Dean screamed – and said, with low voice, "You're coming with me, Dean Winchester – want it or not." The form of Dean's soul dissolved, forming dimly glowing ball of light on Castiel's palm. It wasn't very bright, and there was a red tint on it, like rust – or blood.

Pressing Dean Winchester's soul closely against his chest, Castiel rushed out of the room – and almost stumbled into the demon standing behind it.

"It's not that I've got something against pretty boys falling in my arms, but…" the demon started, but was interrupted by demon blade thrusted towards him, barely missing its goal. "Hey, hey! Hold it, feathers – Is this how you thank me for saving your hide back there? And telling you which door to use?"

Now Castiel recognized the demon. "It was you – you saw me?"

"Little hard to not", the demon said, winking. "But seriously – are you about ready to leave this Mothership? Cause you look like a little lost lamb, and I happen to know the way out…"

Castiel glared the demon suspiciously. "And why would you help me, demon?" he hissed.

The demon shrugged. "Maybe I'm just such a nice guy…? …No? Well, the thing is", he said, "I'm just being opportunist." As Castiel just kept staring at him, the demon sighed. "Look, do you really think that I like it where the things are going on right now? Lilith's planning to lease Lucifer in the world – and if Lucifer sees humans as a trash, why would he hold any higher esteem towards us demons? If humans go down, we're going to be next!"

"And you think that helping angel to steal Dean Winchester from Hell would help your situation in any way?" Castiel questioned, still on alert but inclined to listen.

"Well, Winchester brothers have this reputation what comes to ruining Hell's plans", the demon pointed out. "So, what do you say?"

Castiel pondered his situation. The demon was right about him being lost, yet trusting him actually lead them out was little too much to ask. If this had been only about himself, he would have just killed the demon and then tried to make his way out; but this was about Dean Winchester.

"Very well, demon – show me the way. But just remember; I'm keeping my blade pointed in to your head, and if you give me any reason to use it…"

"Mmm, what a flirt… shall we go, then?"

* * *

To Castiel's surprise, the demon actually did lead him to the same passageway that he and his garrison had used when they'd break in. They hadn't encountered any demons during the walk – although couple of times there had been close calls, and they had to go hide inside empty sells. There seemed to be very few demons lurking around in the first place - they must all had gone to that "development meeting" or whatever it was that Castiel had heard them talking about earlier.

"There would have been other portals, too", the demon confessed, "but since you don't know about them, it seems less suspicious if you leave through the same one you from arrived, too."

Castiel nodded. "Sounds… reasonable", he admitted. He took one step towards the portal and could fell it pulling him. He turned to look at the demon. "I own you one", he said, feeling disgusted towards himself.

"Oh, I'll make sure to gather my debts in time", the demon promised and shooed him away. "Get going on, now; I need to hurry back so I won't raise any suspicions."

"And what will you tell them, if they ask where you went?" Castiel prodded.

The demon smirked. "You think that I'm stupid, cupcake? I arranged myself being summoned, before coming back to help you with your little navigation problem. Now I just pop back to the meeting room and apologize for delay."

Castiel nodded again. "Very well." After throwing one final look to the place he hoped he would never need to see, Castiel stepped through the portal…

*****

**Flashback Ends**

*****

"…Castiel? Castiel, are you alright?"

Castiel was pulled back from his memories by Aziraphale's worried voice. He blinked his eyes and turned towards the other angel, who was looking at him with concern.

"I – I'm fine", Castiel reassured.

"'Fine'? Dear, you were completely zoned out!" Aziraphale said. "Maybe you should take a nap – rest yourself, I mean."

"That's unnecessary", Castiel answered. He tried to look composed as he smiled at the other angel. "I'm fine", he repeated, since didn't really know what else he could say.

"You thought about Hell, didn't you?" Aziraphale asked. As Castiel nodded for conferment, he got guilty look on his face. "I'm sorry if I brought back any bad memories…"

"It wasn't… bad, necessary. Not that there are any good memories of Hell, but – it's more like… confusing." He sighed a bit. "Demons are complicated", he confessed.

Aziraphale hummed. "That they are", he answered.

Castiel hesitated. "Have you ever… heard any angel being in debt to one of them?" he finally asked.

Aziraphale shot an alerted look at him. "You didn't make any deals, did you?"

"I – no. I just told this one demon that I owned him a counter-service. I wouldn't have been able to find Dean Winchester or trace my way back without him."

"…Did he tell you why he did it?" Aziraphale pressed on.

Castiel frowned. "He didn't seem to like the idea of where things are going for due Lilith's scheming."

Aziraphale looked relieved. "Ah, so he's just fending for himself. That's should be okay." Seeing Castiel's surprised look, he continued, "You should never trust a demon who isn't having ulterior motives – selfish kind, that is to say."

"That sounds… wrong", Castiel pointed out.

Aziraphale shrugged. "That's how it is, dealing with demons."

"You speak like you've got some experience about it."

Aziraphale blanched. "Well, you see, when you live as long in Earth as I've done… You can't help but learning thing or two about opposite forces", he explained, matter of factly, but Castiel got the idea that he both knew more about demons than he let out… and was unwilling to say more.

Wanting to change the subject, but unsure what he should say, Castiel stood there awkwardly, twisting his hands. Finally Aziraphale took a pity of him and said, "Have I ever told you about this little bookshop I own? You should absolutely visit there someday. I've got rather exquisite collection of prophesy books…"

Listening Aziraphale's kind voice as he kept going on about his books, Castiel closed his eyes and felt his body relax. This time, when he was lost in his thoughts, it wasn't the hellfire or smell of sulfur or screams that came in to his mind: Instead it was cozy room with comfy furniture, and scents of tealeaves and old paper floating around him. There was warmth in that picture, something pleasant that reminded him of home and eased his scarred mind.

And, at the first time since returning from Hell, Castiel smiled genuinely.


	4. Of Stubborn Humans, or Dean Winchester (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As an angel, Castiel shouldn't feel this frustrated... But then again, Dean Winchester seems to be gifted on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short... That "part I" on tittle means that I'm planning to write more chapters with same consept in future (about Castiel thinking that Dean's just little too stubborn on his own good), and this way I won't have to spent too much time choosing titles.

Next time Castiel returned to St. James' Park, he was fuming with something that humans could call "irritation" – but of course he, being an angel, couldn't possibly feel humanly emotions like that… right?

"Oh my! What has got you so exasperated, dear Castiel?" Aziraphale asked as soon as he saw the other angel.

"Are they all so stubborn?" Castiel snapped. "Is it so hard for them just believe that there are forces far stronger than anything they can comprehend?"

Aziraphale blinked his eyes. "Um… And who could "they" be…?"

"Humans! I'm talking about humans. After all we do for them, after all we suffer… all I'm asking is just a little bit trust! Is it really so hard? But no, it's like he doesn't even care what was risked to bring him back, nor he understands that what is going on is much bigger that he can even imagine. I want to help him – I do – but there's not much that I can do if he doesn't even listen to me!"

Castiel turned his flaming eyes towards his brother and then saw the shocked look he was giving to him. Suddenly feeling ashamed, he lowered his gaze. "…I apologize. It's just so hard to communicate with them, sometimes."

"… I'm getting the idea that this is less about humankind in whole and more about one single person, am I right?"

Castiel sighed. "Yes. Dean Winchester has questionable gift to… make me lose my balance."

"Oh, the righteous man? One would thought that after you went to Hell to safe him, he would be a little more grateful", Aziraphale said, seemingly offended for his brothers sake.

"Well it seems like we and him have a little different idea of what gratefulness means", Castiel muttered.

Aziraphale hummed. "I know how you feel. See, I've this friend of mine… He's also not all that good in things like trust and gratefulness or even common courtesy; and I can tolerate that, I know he can't help it… But sometimes I just hope that he could at least _try_ , even a while. It's not like it's that much to ask…"

Castiel nodded, slowly. He doubted that their positions were all that similar; there was fondness in Aziraphale's voice that told that he cared about his friend far more than what Castiel ever would about that rash hunter. "… Is he worth of it?" he asked.

First Aziraphale looked little bemused by his question, but then smile brightened his face. "Oh, he is… Even if it may never across his mind of how much he indeed is worth of it."

Castiel thought about it. "Then I guess that you think that I, too, should keep trying?"

Aziraphale shrugged. "I don't know, dear. Do you think that he's worth of it?"

Castiel remembered how it had felt to hold Dean's battered soul on his hands, how it had felt to use his grace to cure him from Hell's corruption. For that little moment, they had been almost one being, and he had shared most of Dean's feelings. Anger, hate, recklessness… but also quilt, self-loathing, deep sadness… and even deeper love. There had been honor, and rightfulness, and a strong need to protect others from the horrors that no-one had shielded him from. There was loyalty, and kindness, and even some sort of gruffly gentleness.

But there was no way that Castiel could ever be able to explain all that to Aziraphale, so he said just, "He's the Righteous Man. I was sent to protect him, and that I'll do." He smiled at Aziraphale. "It felt good to talk with you. I hope we'll meet soon again."

As he left, Castiel couldn't help help but wonder… had there been disappointment in Aziraphale's eyes? Was it that he would had liked to hear some other reason for Castiel to keep trying to help Dean Winchester…?

_That's silly thinking; I'm angel of Lord_ , Castiel thought. _I'm doing as Heaven orders me… That's all that matters._

As an angel, Aziraphale surely understood that.


	5. Of Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting Anna, Castiel starts to have doubts on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to completely rewrote this chapter as I first remembered that Anna was captured soon after s4ep10... In this version, she has just escaped after getting her grace back.

"I've never doubted my mission."

Those were first words Castiel said after sitting down beside Aziraphale over half an hour ago.

Aziraphale nodded serenely. Castiel was grateful how the other angel never pushed or forced their conversations; he waited patiently until Castiel had gathered his thoughts and was ready to talk.

"I have never doubted. I might have my questions, and sometimes I've thought that we could maybe do more, but… I'm loyal to Heaven. I believe that what we do, we do because it's necessary, even if it's not the easiest thing to do and may seem cruel for others… Yet still, why", Castel raised his head to look Aziraphale almost pleadingly, "why do I then feel like this? Why do I feel like I've done something wrong?"

"What did you do, dear?" Aziraphale asked gently.

Castiel closed his eyes and let his head droop down. "I… I met old companion of mine. Anna. She used to be leader of our garrison, but she… disobeyed, and fell." He sighed deeply. "I was sent with Uriel to… to kill her, but the Winchesters – Dean and his brother – found her before us. They put up fight and she managed to get her grace back, and then escaped. Heaven wasn't pleased." He looked up again. "We are given orders to capture her and sent her back to Heaven, to be punished, or… or kill her, if necessary."

Aziraphale looked at him with sad, gentle eyes. "How does that make you feel?" he asked. There was no blame in his voice, only deep worry and weariness. Somehow, it made Castiel feel defensive.

"I'm following my orders", he said, little louder than what would had been necessary. "That's what we're supposed to do. Anna wouldn't be in trouble at all, if she only had followed the rules! I'm not the one in blame."

"I never said you are", Aziraphale said with expressionless voice. "I only asked how you feel."

"I feel nothing!" Castel denied. Then he met Aziraphale's eyes, but couldn't hold his gaze. It was too overwhelming, like the other had seen all, every questioning thought and strange feeling he'd had duiring his short stay on earth.

"How do you feel about it, Castiel?" Aziraphale asked again, with a voice that accepted no excuses or half-truths. This time, Castiel knew he was defeated.

"I… I feel lost", he admitted. "Ever since I came to earth, I've… tried to understand humans. To understand how they feel, and why. I can see no harm doing that." He couldn't look at Aziraphale, so he let his gaze wander to people who were walking around them. "She didn't want to just understand. She wanted to feel, to live with them… be one of them. I…" It was hard to speak, his voice was trembling, "She's going to be punished… for what? Wanting to be a human? For wanting to have feelings like they do? …Or just for disobeying?"

Aziraphale's hands sneaked around him, pulling him into a hug. "Oh, Castiel", he mumbled, clearly having troubles to find out anything to say.

"I've never doubted; I can't, I'm angel, I'm not meant to disobey. But then… Why do I feel like this? Like… I've doing something wrong…" he felt himself starting to tremble. "But if I'm wrong… aren't my orders, too? And if they are, wouldn't that mean… that Heaven is wrong?" Was it really him, having these blaspheming thoughts…? "And that can't be, and so… Doesn't that mean that its God's will for Anna to… perish?"

Aziraphale hushed him gently. "Oh, dear… I'm sure He understands your hesitations; there's no limit on His acceptance." He was quiet for a moment, weighting his words. "You said you've never actually seen Him… So your orders come from your superiors, right? So, they may not always be strictly… accurate, right? Not that they would lie to you", Aziraphale added hastily, "but, sometimes… There may be confusions. I mean, my friend", he continued, "he works in operation little similar as we do, and sometimes his orders gets little mixed-up before they arrive to his desk, you know?"

"I'm… not quite sure if I do…" Castiel said weakly.

"Oh, um… Our Father… He can sometimes be incomprehensible. Ineffable, if you please. And… it may be hard for those even closes to Him to understand, what He's really expecting to happen. Sometimes", he added, with very low voice, "that He wants to see what we'll do if He let us made decisions."

Castiel felt his eyes widen. "That's rather… unorthodox thing to say", he said.

"Is it?" Aziraphale asked, nonchalantly.

"We are but executives of His will…"

"But what is His will? How can you be sure that what your superiors tell you is all true? We can lie, you know…"

"If I can't trust in my superiors' word, then whose should I? To yours?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "Trust yourself, Castiel. See what is right and whats wrong with your own too eyes, and act according to it."

"Eyes can be blinded", Castiel pointed out.

"But heart doesn't!" Aziraphale declared.

"That's human phrase, brother… Maybe you've lived little too long with them", Castiel murmured, as he slowly pulled back from Aziraphale's embrace.

The other angel smiled sadly. "Maybe… or maybe you've done it too little, Castiel." He sighed. "I don't know how to advice you further than this, dear… I'm afraid that if I continue I may anger you." Aziraphale took Castiel's hands in his owns and looked him deeply into the eyes. "I think that you have some serious decisions to make in near future, and those you have to do on your own. I've been in exactly the same situation as you're now, and I know you can make it through… just… Don't forget what truly is important to you." He smiled once more. "I'll see you again, Castiel… whether in good or bad situation."

After these ambiguous words, Aziraphale vanished; and once again, Castiel was unable to track him down.


	6. Of the Problems of Being an Older Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale tries to give Castiel time to come around by himself. It's not so easy thing to do...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that this should be the first chapter I've ever written in Aziraphale's point-of-view. About a time, duh...

"He's back again."

"Huh?" Aziraphale raised his head from his book to peer at the demon who was sitting on sofa across him. "I'm sorry, what did you say, dear?"

"That young angel you've been meeting at the park", Crowley (who Aziraphale had started to think as Anthony, though he hadn't yet dared to call him on that name) clarified, "He's back."

"Oh." Aziraphale worried his lip between his teeth. He had hoped that the demon wouldn't have noticed - neither the meetings nor that he had lately been avoiding his younger brother.

"So…? You aren't gonna go, then?" Crowley – Anthony – pressed on.

Aziraphale sighed and put his book away. "No; I'm afraid it would only cause him more confusion if I did."

"Why's that?" Anthony asked (Aziraphale gave up from trying to dub him as anything else). "Here I thought that all those kitchen psychology phrases that you've picked up from _Dr. Phil_ were finally starting to pay back."

"Dear, there's nothing wrong in watching _Dr. Phil_ , thank you very much", Aziraphale said coolly. "Besides, that's not the point. The real issue is that my views of certain things may be little too… radical for Castiel due his current set of mind."

Anthony sniggered. "Sorry, it's just… well, the "radical" is far from being the first term that comes in to my mind while looking at you…!"

"You know what I mean, demon", Aziraphale said snappishly, but the word "demon" lacked any fierceness that had colored it not even so long time ago and could almost be considered as some kind of an endearment. "My thoughts about Heaven and the Big Plan would easily be branded as a heretic. I wouldn't want to either be ratted out by Castiel or otherwise alienate him from me. And they could also find out about my friendly footing with you, which would cause lot of troubles for you, too!"

"Yes, yes, I get it, angel… But somehow I just can't help but feeling a little sympathy towards the little one; he seems to be in the tight spot." Anthony shrugged, looking little sheepish.

"That's… surprisingly compassionate, coming from you", Aziraphale noted. But at the same time… it really wasn't so surprising, at all. The angel had come to understand that Anthony was full of things that weren't all that common for demons.

"Yeah, not in my work description; please don't tell the boss?"

"No need to be spiteful, dear; it was an honest observation", Aziraphale quickly placated. He knew that Anthony felt defensive about his "better side" and was little regretful for pointing it out. "And you are right; Castiel would need a friend right now. It just can't be me, not before he has made his choice."

It was hard for Aziraphale to leave anyone – and most of all, his own brother! – on their own devices during the time of duress, but this time there just didn't seem to be anyway he could be on help without causing even more problems. After Adam rewrote the timeline that leaded on the Apocalypse-that-never-came, Aziraphale's disobedience was also washed away from Heaven's memory, and he had done his best to stay under the radar, thank you very much. Even starting to talk with Castiel at that first time had been risky thing to do (which was exactly why he hadn't wanted Anthony to know about it at the first place – the demon wasn't a coward, not at all, but h certainly wasn't the bravest one out there, either, and Aziraphale hadn't wanted to cause him worries), but it had been too hard for him to fight the temptation of being able to talk with another angel after so long time…

Besides, Castiel was such a sweet child.

"So, what are we going to do with him, then?"

Aziraphale looked at his – friend? Was he allowed to call him that? – and shook his head, feeling defeated. "I - I honestly don't know."

"I could… I could ask Fergus to talk with him. If you want, that's it. Can't be sure if he would, though", Anthony offered, looking unsure.

The offer took Aziraphale by surprise. "Fergus?"

Anthony nodded. "They met shortly, at Hell. He seemed to like the kid, in his own way. Like he was a puppy dog or something."

"But – but do you think that would be any help for him?"

Anthony shrugged. "I'm not sure but it could be worth of trying." Lowering his voice, he continued, "I'm having the impression that there's something big going on here. Fergus don't really tell me anything about it – not wanting to make me put my hand on something that may bite back, probably – but Hell is surely cooking up something… volatile."

Aziraphale nodded slowly. "I've been thinking same about Heaven."

"Yeah… Surely makes one feel thankful for being on retirement, don't you think?"

"Indeed… You really think Fergus would be inclined to talk with Castiel?"

"He should be; and he's suave enough to _not_ pin it back on us. Want me to ask him?" Anthony ensured, while he was already fishing up his phone from his pocket.

"Yes – No. I don't know… Can I think about it overnight?" Aziraphale asked.

Anthony shrugged. "However you want; he's _your_ brother, after all." Already having his cellphone in hand, Anthony checked the time. "It would be dinnertime soon – Care to join me?"

Aziraphale smiled, his mood suddenly brightening. "Certainly, dear. Ritz?"

Anthony smirked. "Where else, angel?"

As they stepped outside, Aziraphale was already half certain that he would ask Anthony to call Fergus during the evening. After all, his own change of heart happened when he realized that person he had most common with was the one he should have been seen as his sworn enemy, so – who knows? Maybe history would repeat itself…


	7. Of Getting Advises (from the Enemy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel and demon meet up in the St. James Park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens right before s4ep20, The Rapture, in which Castiel is taken back to Heaven before he can reveal Dean something important.

He wasn't there this time, either; Castiel had kind of started to expect that, though he still came back to the park every few days. He needed advice, but there was no-one to give him one, now that even Aziraphale seemed to have abandoned him.

The situation had started to slip thorough his fingers: dead angels, Anna, Uriel's betrayal… Sometimes he felt like disobeying, but then he quickly gathered his thoughts and remembered that Heaven was Good; following orders was right thing to do. Yet, it didn't stop him from wondering if there was some other way, if the apocalypse could still be avoided…

And Dean Winchester, he and his brother, and the roles they were destined to play; was that really inevitable…?

"Why so gloomy, sweetheart?"

Castiel turned around and wrinkled his nose like he had just smelt something unpleasant. "Demon. You got some nerve, appearing before me like that…"

The demon didn't look particularly threatened by that; instead, he took an offended pose and said, "Is that any way to greet the one who saved your life?"

Castiel took another look, and it indeed was the demon who had helped him to escape from Hell. "Ah", he said, because really, what can you say in a situation like that?

Clearly, the demon had excepted something more than that. "Really? " _Ah?"_ That's all you have to say? … Not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you? Well, good thing that you at least have your looks, then…"

"Cease your theatrics, demon. I find it hard to believe that you helped me out of the goodness of your heart… if you even had one", Castiel replied frostily.

The demon shrugged. "Got me there… But back to the business – Why are you showing such a long face, darling?"

"And what is it to you?"

"Nothing, really – It just seems like you always choose the same place when you feel like mooping, and it's kinda bothers me, since my old mentor lives close by, and he really could deal without an another angel wandering in his backyard, so to say."

Castiel raised his eyebrow. "And why should I care about that?" he asked, though was suddenly feeling little worried. _He said "an another angel"… that means that he knows about Aziraphale living here._

"Full of love and care, aren't you?"

"I have no need to show any of those towards abominations like you."

"That hurt, darling! …And here I thought we were having something special…"

Castiel shook his head, feeling both confused and irritated. He had never understood demons, and even by their standards, this one was odd creature. "You know I could smite you, don't you?" he asked.

"Then why haven't you?" the Demon shot back, with a smirk.

"I… owe you one. And since I actually honor my debts, I will let you live… this time."

He was already planning to leave - feeling disappointed for failing again to meet Aziraphale, but also unwilling to spent any more time in the demon's company – when the said demon raised his voice again.

"Hey, why such hurry? You could at least spill out what has ruffled your feathers", he said and, as Castiel tilted his head, continued quickly, "Meaning, can you finally tell me why are you so upset? Was that simply enough for you?"

"I still fail to understand what's that for you", Castiel said, deciding to not acknowledge the offend.

The demon just shrugged again. "Maybe I'm trying to be a good person…" he said and feigned an innocent smile.

Castiel wasn't impressed. "So do you?" he pressed on.

The demon actually laughed. "Hell, no! I just want you to cheer up so you no longer stagger around like some lost chicken and make my mentor worry that soon there will be a whole garrison of angels drinking tea in his city… _Aaaand_ maybe get some leverage from you that I can use later if things get nasty."

Castiel nodded, remembering Aziraphale's words: _"You should never trust a demon who isn't having an ulterior motives – selfish kind, that is to say."_ Of course, the demon probably had hidden agendas, but the idea of speaking to someone who was in no place to criticize him felt oddly relieving… especially since Castiel would feel no remorse of smiting him later, if it came to that.

"… I presume it's pointless to ask if you know about the present situation?" Castiel started. The demon looked like someone who prided himself always knowing more than the most of people.

"Of course: The big event. Hell versus Heaven, and Earth get to pay the collateral damages… But hey, it's all for the bigger picture!"

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm", Castiel hissed.

"But that's what you think, too, aren't it?" the demon pointed out. "How stressing it has to to you; watching all these humans, looking after them, and all while planning their impending demise! I mean, that's what I do, but you should had been cut from something else, right?"

"They won't demise!" Castiel denied. "Of course, some of them will die –"

"Millions of them", the demon added casually, and Castiel glared at him.

"– _Many_ of them will die, but those who survives will be living in paradise!"

"What ever you say, if it helps you to sleep at night… Wait, you don't sleep! Well, to be honest, neither do I… now my mentor here, he does sleep, quite a lot, actually – slept once a whole century! – Maybe I should try it, sometime…"

"Why do you keep spouting that nonsense?" Castiel grumbled.

"It's not any worse nonsense than what you're spouting to yourself, darling; _Paradise?_ Really? Keep dreaming on…"

"It will be fulfilled! Everything will be perfect again, just God wanted it to be; World without pain and suffering, where humans can live peacefully without wars and hard work…"

"Also without sex", the demon pointed out. "Not really my idea of paradise…"

"They won't be carving that anymore", Castiel replied stiffly. "The will be ridden of fleshly wants and live their days in harmony, praising God."

"You realize that then they wont be humans anymore?" the demon said.

That hit little too close, because Castiel had been wondering the same thing. If humans were shed from their… "humanity", then what would they became? Angels? And if that was their Fathers plan, then why were humans so different than them from the beginning?

"I won't question Lord's will", Castiel said sternly.

"Oh, but you do, don't you, darling? Deep in your heart, you've got all kinds of questions… "Is it necessary?", "Is this truly His will?", "Is Dean going to forgive me for playing him like a fool?"…"

"I'm not playing him!" Castiel denied hastily. "I'm doing what I have to! One day, he will understand that it was worth it -"

"Worth of what, exactly? What could you give to him that would be worth of killing his own brother, even if he was possessed by Lucifer and Dean himself had Mikael pulling his strings? Those to have a bond, feathers, so deep that it's more like symbiotic than brotherly; like they physically couldn't exist without each other. Sick, if you ask me… Now, tell me, what can you offer him that would made him to forgive you his brother's death?"

"I have no need of his forgiveness", Castiel said, but faintly. Surely Dean would understand, eventually… Surely he would see that Castiel had no choice?

"Don't lie to a liar, honey; and more importantly, don't lie to yourself. Seriously, don't your code forbid dishonestly, or something…?"

"Quiet", Castiel hissed. "Be quiet, you filthy abomination!"

"Did I piss you off? Aww, did I maybe poke your weakest point? Tell me, what does it feel – guiltiness? I've never felt that, not even while I was still a man…"

"I wont let you corrupt me against my duty! I'm an angel of Lord, I have faith…"

The demon snorted. "Yeah, so I see… Which why you're still a kid. Older and wiser learn to leave that behind."

"And what is left of them, after that?" Castiel asked cuttingly.

The demon rolled his eyes. "Oh, I don't know… How about hope and love? Not that that works on me, mind you…"

That actually managed to silence Castiel. He simply couldn't think of any counterargument that wouldn't talk against his Father's Word.

"… You're a low creature", he said, with a grudging admiration.

"Aren't you just a flirt?" the demon jeered back.

"…Why did you came, truly? What do you want from me?" Castiel pressed on.

"Didn't I already answer that – or do you expect me to actually give you my true reasoning's? Let's just say that I have those, but – at least now – I'm no threat for you."

Castiel scrutinized the demon, who shrugged before continuing, "Maybe I just want you to make your decision and stop hovering around, wasting everyone else's time. If you're on Heaven's side, then fine, stop pretending on being anything else. If you instead choose humanity's side, then stop mulling over it and act up! Of course", he said with a smirk, "you can always choose Hell's side, too, but considering that even Lucifer himself aren't really on _our_ side, it wouldn't be on my benefit if you did."

"What you mean, Lucifer aren't on your side?" Castiel wondered. "He created you, didn't he?"

"Yes, and as soon as he's done with humans, he'll end us too! Really, honey, how dim are you? If Lucifer HATES HUMANS, then what would you expect that he thinks about US!? All in downstairs are idiots, who can't think with their brains – kind of like you, really."

Castiel decided to not care about the demon's opinions considering his intelligence (or the lack of it), since he had finally got what he'd asked for. "That's your agenda, then… You want to stop Lucifer's rising", he said, feeling little smug.

"Oh, really? And you found that out all by yourself, after I practically shouted it against your face? Well, good to you…"

The demon's grumpiness eased Castiel own frustration about the superior attitude he had shown during their whole conversation. _So he_ can _get frustrated, too…_

"But what I said earlier, still stands: choose your fucking side, Thursday! If you're going to betray Dean Winchester, then stop playing to be his friend! If you're going to take a stand against Heaven, tell him what it going on here! Stop running away and looking excuses, or thinking that you can use two saddles; make your decision and then stick with it!" The demon took some deep breaths. "I'm not here to coddle you or tell you, what to do; just make sure that you know in whose camp you're standing on", he said, now much calmer, before continuing, "I'm leaving; you're cute as a button, honey, but talking with you makes me miss some non-braided company, or at least a strong drink. But, if you choose to join on humanity's side… Give me a call. I think we two could accomplish some great stuff together."

The demon vanished in a puff of sulfur; Castiel could see something slowly flowing down, something that looked like a piece of paper… He took it on his hand and looked more closely.

On the paper stood: _666 – Call any time you want, darling!_

Castiel contemplated if he should throw the note away, but finally put it in his pocket, _just in case_ , as he reasoned to himself.

_Choose your side_ , the demon had said.

Maybe he should finally do just that.

Maybe it really was time to stop running away…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make it clear that Crowley (Fergus) isn't so must telling Castiel which side to choose (though it's pretty clear which he would hope for), but more like pressing him to make the desicion, per se; I don't think that at this point it's clear to him of which side Castiel will eventually pick up... At least, that's what I tried to express.


	8. Of Forming Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his death and resurrection, Castiel founds himself under the care of Aziraphale... and his very uncommon friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I saw episode s5ep01 Sympathy for the Devil, so I don't remember if it was suppoused to happen duiring just one day or couple of days, but I'm going with the latter.

Bright light was filling the room. The prophet's hand on his shoulder squeezed, briefly, giving encouragement before letting go.

_I disobeyed, but I did what was right. I know I did._ The thought made Castiel smile for a bit…

… and then the light swallowed everything.

* * *

Pain.

There was so much of it, like every bone of his body had been set on fire. He tried to open his eyes, but it hurt too much, the light was blinding, made his head feel like it's boiling…

Something was pressed against his mouth.

"Hush, dear… Drink, it will help."

He didn't want to, but the voice was so gentle, so worried, he didn't want it to sound so worried, so he took a sip. Warm water, with a bit of an aftertaste due something that human used to keep their waterpipes clean and open.

"Good, good… Can you take another sip? Please, Castiel…"

He tried, mostly because he didn't want to disappoint the another. After few sips he felt his conscience wash away again.

"Thank you, dear… Rest now, you're safe…"

* * *

Next time he woke up wasn't any better. He was startled awake from dream – nightmare – and tried to get up from (bed? coach?) he was laying on, only to fall down on a graceless lump.

"Hey, hey, hey! Little warning would be nice!"

Someone tried to grab him, and he lashed out, trashing blindly around.

"Manchester's sake, kid, are you trying to dislocate something in you?" that wasn't the gentle voice from last time, that voice he didn't know or trust into. "Damn it, kid, I'm not trying to hurt you!… Aziraphale! Come and try to get kid-brother of yours back to bed!"

Sounds of footsteps, and then,

"Oh, dear… Castiel, it's okay, I'm here…"

He wept; reaching his towards the voice, wanting to be held and comforted. _I've missed you_ , he wanted to cry out. _Please don't leave me again, I'll be good, I'll be good, just don't leave…!_

Gently he was pulled into a strong, warm embrace. "Hush, dearheart… I'm here, I'm here, you're safe…"

* * *

Waking up third time, Castiel felt way more coherent than before, and tried to sit up, making his head protest loudly. Groaning, he laid back down, and curiously looked around.

The room he was in was cozy; bookshelf, few armchairs, small desk just front of the window. The owner of the room seemed to be infatuated by tartan, since it was everywhere, but Castiel really didn't mind it. The bed was soft and so were the bedsheets, and he felt temptation to fall under again…

"I see you've decided to join us in the land of the living, eh?"

Castiel's head whipped around in a flash; the door had opened and now there was a familiar demon standing in the doorway, smirking down at him.

"You", Castiel croaked, "what are you doing here? What did you do to Aziraphale?!" he tried to get up again, only to be pushed back down by the demon. Cursing his weakness, Castiel glared the demon, who calmly sat down on the armchair closest of the bed.

"Even though I would love to play these games with you, I really need to go straight to the business this time. First: I'm here because I was invited. Secondly: Aziraphale is downstairs, having cup of tea with my mentor. Thirdly (though you didn't ask): None of us know how you ended up here, but you were in a shaken shape."

Castiel looked unconvinced. "Why would any angel allow a demon in close vicinity with him?"

The demon shrugged. "Why would any angel rebel against his kind for a mere human? Sometimes you feel closer with those who should be your enemies than with your own people – especially when your people try to put an end to all that you've learned to enjoy of."

"But – but…" Castile wasn't sure what he should say for that; the whole situation was absurd!

"No time for that! Listen, this is urgent: Lucifer has risen (which means that you totally messed this up, darling!), and we'll have to do something for it (since there's no way you're going to handle this by yourself), but the most important thing is: Do not tell Aziraphale any of this!"

Castiel raised slowly in sitting position. The demon's grave voice implied that this was truly significant revelation.

"Why? Why should he go without warning?"

The demon puffed. "Because he wouldn't be able to just sit through it! No; if he gets to know what is happening, he'll want to take a part on it. And even if that wouldn't be all that bad, but he would drag my mentor into it, too, and that just won't do! I have my disagreements with both of them, but that doesn't mean I want them to kick the basket or anything."

"So… Aziraphale doesn't want this war to happen?" Castiel asked, as pieces of puzzle started to click together. "Is that why he distanced himself from me?"

The demon rolled his eyes. "A real Sherlock, aren't you? And yes; he didn't want you to get pissed of him and give him away to Heaven's mercy. Since what we have heard, they aren't all that merciful, nowadays…" he added pointedly, looking at Castiel's weak form.

"I… I understand." And he did, no matter how much he despised the truth that had been showed to him. "Heaven's not… well, at this moment."

"Has it ever been…? But let's make this clear now: Aziraphale – and my mentor – will be kept out of this. Are you with me on these terms or not?"

Castiel wasn't quite sure if he was, and he opened his mouth to say so, when they both heard footsteps from the staircase. The demon sent a warning look towards Castiel, and just then Aziraphale stepped in the room.

"Oh, Castiel! You've woken up, what a delight! Fergus, why on earth didn't come to tell me that he was awake?"

The demon – Fergus? Was that his name? – smiled pleasantly. "I thought that it would be okay to let you at least finish your tea before dragging you back here, especially since he didn't seem to be inclined for panic attack or anything this time", he replied.

"Still", Aziraphale insisted, before turning to smile at Castiel. "Oh, dear, you really made me worry! None of us knew what had happened to you; you just appeared on my doorstep, out of cold!"

Castiel, despite his confusion due the all new information he had just gotten, still found himself smiling. Aziraphale's affection towards him seemed so forthright.

"How are you feeling? You must be famished – Fergus, could you ask your father to bring some tea? It will be good for your nerves, dear", he added, and sat down on the bed. He's hand found Castiel's and he started to rub it soothingly.

The demon rolled his eyes but left the room, which made Castiel feel a little nervous. It was completely different thing to stand in the same room with the demon – when he at least knew where he was and could predict his movements, even if he probably was too weak to fight, had he decided to attack – than have a demon running around out of his sight.

"Why – why have you allowed him in, brother? Even if you two work together – and that's already bad enough! – do you really have to fraternize with him?"

Aziraphale laughed little sheepishly. "Castiel, there's probably lot of things in me that you'll find wrong or tasteless – and I'm not trying to make excuses for myself – but I have to admit that I associate myself with Fergus and his father, not because we work together, but because I honestly enjoy their company."

Castiel had a hard time to believe what he was hearing. "Enjoy? Spending time with these abominations-?"

"Hey, watch your mouth, kid! Just who are you calling abomination?"

The voice, though unfamiliar, wasn't all strange – Castiel could remember it from during his panic attack – but when he looked towards the door, he suddenly felt – fear.

The newcomer was tall and little lanky, stylishly clothed and groomed, and he would had easily passed as an average human, had there not been yellow reptilian eyes looking from his little pissed-off face's. But the eyes weren't what got Castiel so disturbed – it was the aura.

The newcomer was an angel – angel who had fallen all the way down, becoming so twisted and unforgiven that a whole new term had been created to call them with – demons. The original ones, those who fell with Lucifer.

Dukes of Hell.

He was trembling now, unable to hold it down. He didn't have his knife, where was it? Had someone took it…?

"Castiel, dear, what is it? Anthony, give me that tea, now! Castiel, take a deep breath… doesn't this smell like home?"

"He's one of the fallen", Castiel squeaked out. "What have you done brother? … His kind should have never been allowed to rise from Hell again!"

They had been bound, not like Lucifer in his cage, but in to Hell anyway, making them unable to leave it. Now that Lucifer had risen, it might be no longer an issue, but from what Aziraphale had implied, _this one_ had been out here a very long time…

Aziraphale looked honestly confused, but the fallen started suddenly laugh. "The kid things that you busted my sorry self out of Hell!" he chuckled. "Like some Rambo in tartan…!"

"I fail to see what is so funny in that picture", Aziraphale said bitingly.

" _The tartan!"_

Aziraphale shook his head and turned back to Castiel, smiling reassuringly. "It's nothing like that, Castiel; Anthony has all rights to be here – out of Hell, I mean. When Father sent me to live here, Anthony was announced as my counterpart; symmetry and balance, you see."

"But – Shouldn't you two be sworn enemies, then?"

At that point, Aziraphale and the Fallen (Castiel really couldn't start referring him as Anthony, no way), share a surprisingly fond look. "Oh, we were; for a thousands of years. But you see, at one point, we both had the same realization – this was our home. Not Heaven, not Hell; Earth. And we wanted to protect it", Aziraphale explained.

"After that, we became lazy", the Fallen continued. "No more glorious fights – we still called each's other names when we crossed paths, but that's about that. It was like a habit, you know… until we once ended up into a drinking contest."

"And while we were at it, we finally realized that we actually had more common with each's other than with our own flocks", Aziraphale said, and then flushed a little. "Of course, we both tried to deny it first; it was something that no-one could had thought of! But after a while, we had to admit the truth."

"So we made an Agreement: One good deed there, little temptation here, and scales stay in balance. We won't interfere with each's others works, no-one loses and everybody wins!"

"And it's been working out perfectly", Aziraphale added proudly. "We even prevented an apocalypse, once."

Castiel balanced, and the fallen shot an irritated look at Aziraphale. "Hey! Didn't we promise to never bring up that again?"

Aziraphale looked little chastised. "I'm sorry… But surely we can make exception in this case? We already made one for Fergus, you know…"

"Well, he's my son! We don't know if this kid of yours isn't going to rattle us all out for Heaven!"

Aziraphale looked at Castiel. "Are you planning to do that?" he asked solemnly.

Castiel shook his head. "I… No. I'm not sure if I agree with all that's happening here – I still think that is foolish for you to be this friendly with Fallen, but… I'm not good graces with Heaven even by myself, so I understand that sometimes… sometimes they don't know all." He couldn't help but shudder after saying that. There was emptiness inside of him, where before had been so much… something bright and warm. Trust - faith and love…

_And now I only have hope, right, demon? But what I can I hope for now… when all is lost?_

Aziraphale looked him with great love and understanding, and even the fallen seemed little sympathizing.

"Well, fine… Do what you want, angel", he yielded and sat down on the same armchair that his son (?) had been vacating earlier.

The story that Aziraphale then told (with some interjections from the fallen) was unbelievable, and Castiel would had gladly called it hoax, but they both looked so sincere – well, at least Aziraphale did – that he just had to believe it. He got the idea that some parts were left out or at least downplayed, but those seemed to be personal subjects, so Castiel decided to not poke them.

"…So, after Adam put everything back to normal, even our actions were forgotten – or, precisely, they never happened on the first place – so we just decided to keep it quiet and let the both sides forgot us."

"Which wasn't very hard, since, well… we hadn't been all that active in centuries before that; I mean, some younger demons don't even know there's ever been other Crowley's in Hell than my son!" Anthony (Castiel had kind of accepted that during the story) concluded.

"The antichrists… Adam… he's still out there, right?" Castiel verified.

"He's best to be left alone, Castiel… He may have his powers, but his heart is human's. He loves his home and won't leave there, if he's just left in peace."

"Let's think him like an endangered species; some of them are dangerous, but the world would be blander place without them", said Anthony. "Besides, he fixed my Bentley… he's not all bad."

It sounded so much like something that Dean could have said, that Castiel laughed a bit… before realizing that he had no idea if Dean and his brother were still alive.

"I… I've friends, two humans… I… left them into a tight spot, and I've no idea if they get out of there in time. Is… is there any way I could contact them?"

Aziraphale nodded. "You got their phone number? I'm sure that either Anthony or Fergus will let you borrow their cells…"

"I'll do it", said voice from the door and Castiel's old acquaintance stepped in. "Could you two step out for a while? I still have to finish my conversation with the wounded angel, here."

Aziraphale seemed doubtful and shot a concerned look at Castiel, who smiled placatingly. "You can go, brother."

"Very well… I hope we'll be able to talk more later", Aziraphale gave in, and allowed Anthony to lead him out of the room.

As soon as they had left, the demon turned towards Castiel. "So, have you decided? Are we going to keep this from them or do I have to make some drastic measures?" His voice was light, but Castiel knew that the demon would feel no remorse for killing him.

"Yes… It's better if they don't know. this time won't be as clean cut as the last one – I won't want to drag Aziraphale into that." _Or Anthony_ , he added, but only inside his head.

The demon smirked. "Well, now we're talking! So, you were inquiring about the Winchesters? It seems that they appeared in to the airplane at the same time as the monastery was blown up; there's some big players on the stage, considering that…"

"So they're alive?" Castiel was filled with relieve; he had no idea how much the idea of brothers' doom had haunted him. At least he had not lost everything…

"When I last checked, yes."

"Then I need to go to them", Castiel said, determinedly, and tried to stood up, but his legs gave up under him. The demon caught him before he fell down, and pushed him back to bed.

"No, you won't… at least not for a couple of days. Look, I'll keep tabs on them for you, and you rest till you're full of mojo again."

"They're in danger", Castiel insisted.

"And what help can you offer them, if you cannot even stand on your two feet? Don't be preposterous! I'll still have use to you, if we plan to get Lucifer back into his box, and by then, I want you to be on your top shape!"

It was humiliating, to be unable to resist the logic behind the demon's words. "…Fine. Two days, and then I'll go."

The demon smirked. "Now that's more like it."

Wanting to throw him out of balance, Castiel said, "So your name's Fergus, then?"

His smirk suddenly vanishing, the demon looked scornfully at Castiel. "It's Crowley, you heathen!"

"No, I'm pretty sure that it's Fergus", Castiel said back.

"I didn't give you the right to use my first name!"

"But Aziraphale is using it – does that mean that he got permission?" This felt… strangely good.

"That's – Are you trolling me?"

"No… I think we are having conversation."

"You… you little piece of shit-!"

"Are we done? Cause I really need to rest – I have to get back on my top shape, as you said."

Maybe it was not wise to aggravate the demon – he probably would need to pay back for it, later – but right now, hearing angry thumps of footsteps as "Fergus" stomped downstairs felt kind of… enjoyable. Like he had finally won one over the demon, even if it wouldn't happen very often…

He felt his mind starting to drift off, and this time he welcomed it with a small, contend smile on his lips.


	9. Of Parents (and Sushi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel consults Aziraphale about searching their Father.

"I've been thinking about trying to find our Father", Castiel confessed to Aziraphale, as they sat in his cozy kitchen.

Aziraphale slowly put his half-empty teacup aside; Castiel himself hadn't taken a sip from his. Tea wasn't a drink he enjoyed about, though he admitted that it's scent had some relaxing qualities.

"Why so?" his brother asked.

Castiel frowned and looked down into his folded hands. "He's not been in Heaven for a some time. I… I hope that He could help us to become a family again." It was true, but not the whole truth: he also hoped that God could offer them some help to lock Lucifer up again, but due the promise he had gave to Fergus (as liked to call the demon, mostly because it annoyed him), he simply could not tell that to Aziraphale.

"Ah, I see… Well, I myself have no idea where he could be. Last time we talked, he had just casted Adam and Eve out of Eden. He asked me, where my flaming sword was… Now, I had just given it to Adam – it was cold and raining and Eve was waiting a baby, they needed some protection! – but of course I couldn't admit that I had just handled it away, so I told Him that I must had left it somewhere… Well, I think He probably already knew what had happened, but I can't be sure, since, like I said, we never talked face-to-face after that; as you know, that was right before I was ordered to stay here…"

"You _think_ He knew?" Castiel confirmed. "Then do you presume that your new order was some kind of punishment from your disobedience?"

Aziraphale shook his head and smiled sweetly. "Oh, I think that He more likely understood that where my loyalties laid and decided to let me stay there with humans that I'd risked His wrath for."

Castiel fidgeted nervously. "Your trust from His kindness is great", he said. "I'm afraid I can't completely share your faith for His good will…"

"And yet you look for him."

"Maybe I'm just desperate enough to try anything that could help… Besides, if it indeed was Him who resurrected me – since I know that Rafael indeed did kill me – maybe He'll be inclined to at least hear my plea."

Aziraphale shuddered. "I still can't believe that Rafael could act so… brutishly! I know that you and those Winchesters should not have been bothering that prophet, but surely everything could had been solved if you all had just sat down and talked about it!"

Bothering the prophet… That was the excuse that Castiel had given to Aziraphale about his current situation. It was just enough true to lessen his guilt for being forced to lie to him; and, as Fergus had said, "the best lies are those which have some truth in them".

"Well, as you see, that's why we need Father", Castiel pointed out.

Aziraphale hummed softly and took another sip of tea.

Castiel worried his lip between his teeth before asking, "…What is He like? Like, as a person?" As his brother started to open his mouth, he hurried to add, "And please, don't say He's "ineffable"…"

Aziraphale laughed a little. "Well, He's that, too!" Then he probably took a pity of his brother, since he continued, "He was strong and kind. Whenever He was near, it felt like nothing bad could happen, like everything could be sorted out… But thinking back to it, I think it was more what we expected Him to be than what He truly was."

"I don't understand…"

"We are His children, Castiel; and like all children, we want to be able to look up to our parents. We see them simply in their parental role, and so their real personality keeps hidden from us. Parents won't tell their children if they're scared of something or unsure how things should go; nor do they let their frustration and anger to show in their actions – at least, I think that's what good parents do." He shook his head a little to clear his mind. "That's why I'm not able to tell you what kind of person He is; to me, He's my parent, and I can't see Him past that."

Castiel frowned. "I have always tough Him more as God than as actual parent; Father has always been more like a honorific."

Aziraphale reached out to gently pat his arm. "It's completely understandable; you've never even met Him in face to face, so how could you feel the same kind of connection as those of us who got to actually live with Him?"

Castiel's frown deepened a little while he thought about that. Slowly he lifted his eyes to look at his brother. "… So what do you think? Is my mission just a fool's quest?"

Aziraphale smiled wryly. "Why do I get the idea that it was Fergus who taught you that expression?" he teased lightly. "Did you consult him about this before coming to me?"

Castiel fidgeted a little. "I…"

Aziraphale sighed. "You two seem to be always planning something… Please just don't let him to talk you into something dangerous; he's a good boy, as far as demons go, but he can be little… harsh, and he doesn't always consider what consequences his actions may hold to those who get messed up into his schemes."

"I'll be careful, Aziraphale. But…"

"As for your question, I don't believe there's such of things as useless missions; even if you don't find Him or He's denies your request and refuses to come back to Heaven, I'm sure that something can still be gained from that. It's not futile."

Castiel wasn't so sure about that, but decided to not say more about it; Aziraphale was something that Fergus referred as an optimists, which basically meant a person who always believed the beast about everyone and everything. Well, Fergus had said that it meant "a person who lives in complete delusion", but Castiel was already adjusted with his constant snark and had checked it later from dictionary.

"It's… nice too see that you, at least, share my point-of-view", Castiel said, and wasn't that true; everyone else seemed to think that he had gone crazy.

Aziraphale smiled fondly at him. "Always, dear! …Now, how about some more tea?"

Castiel looked down at his still full cup and shook his head. "No, thank you; it's not necessary."

Aziraphale pouted a little. "But your tea must be all cool now! You can't drink it like that; just let me to boil some more water…"

"It's totally not necessary…", Castiel tried again, and was, thankfully, saved by Fergus' father, who suddenly stepped in.

"Hello, angel… Oh, and baby-angel is there, too!" he greeted, gaining heart-warming "welcome, dear!" from Aziraphale and a nod from Castiel; though he no longer feared the fallen as much as before, he still felt little nervous around him.

Aziraphale had tried to explain their situation to him, and in some way, he could understand; wasn't that the same reason why he had became so accustomed with Fergus in such a short time? Aziraphale had also told him, that Crowley – as the fallen wanted to be called – hadn't even fallen at the same time with Lucifer or the other dukes of Hell, and even then, he had more like "sauntered vaguely downwards".

Castiel had been shocked to hear that it was, in fact, Crowley, and not Lucifer, who had been the snake of Eden. But as Aziraphale had wisely said, "Our Father sees all; if He hadn't wanted Crowley in the Garden, He wouldn't had let him to get in." He also reminded, that it had been Eve's own decision to taste the apple, Crowley had only encouraged her a little. "Of course, I was little bitter for him about that, for a long time; but the thing is, Crowley told me from the very beginning that he doesn't know if it was actually bad or good deed that he committed that day – and I think that I understand what he means with that. Humans without knowledge of what is good and what is evil… would they even be humans? Or only little children for us to look after, instinctive as an animals, never understanding the consequences of their doings?"

That had reminded Castiel about something that he, too, had wondered earlier, so he had shut his mouth and let it be. He trusted Aziraphale: There was no way he could do anything evil, or associate himself with someone without any redeeming qualities. Even so, he still remained wary of Crowley, though never showing any hostility towards him.

"Would you like some tea, dear?" Aziraphale asked from Crowley.

"Depends on… Would you like to go on and check this now sushi-bar with me? It's not Ritz, but some variety would bring some spice in you life. Baby-angel here is of course welcome, too", he added quickly, as Aziraphale looked unsurely towards Castiel.

"Sushi… Isn't that _raw_ fish?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley smirked. "Being picky, aren't you? But yeah, it is; and it tastes good, I promise you! I used to ate it a lot at one point of time, when I spent short period at Japan, you remember that, don't you? …Well, I've tried it few times after that – especially since it started to get popular in Europe – but it never tastes quite right; but I've heard lots of good said about this place, so what you say?" Crowley looked pleadingly at Aziraphale.

"Well…"

"And their sake has been recommend a lot… I bought you few bottles of rice-wine back then, right? I got the idea that you liked it…"

After that, it was clear that Aziraphale had made his decision. "Well, if it's important to you, it would hardly be fair for me to dig my heels in, right? Castiel, would you like to join us?"

Smiling a little, Castiel shook his head. "No, thank you; I was going to leave soon, anyway."

"Are you sure, dear?" Aziraphale asked.

"Yes, it's fine; eating… isn't really my thing, anyway", Castiel assured.

"You've got awfully lot to learn, then, kid!" Crowley said with friendly voice. "Maybe next time, then? We could try something more basic… say, Italian food?"

"Oh, that would be wonderful! You'll come, won't you, Castiel?" Aziraphale gushed happily.

"Ah… Yes, that's fine", Castiel said, though little unsure how he could handle situation like that.

"Well, see you soon, then!" Aziraphale said. "You know my door is always open for you."

"Yeah, bye then, baby-angel!" Crowley added, earning gentle smack from Aziraphale.

"I'll see you soon", Castiel promised – mostly to Aziraphale - , and flew away. He had important things to do.

He had God to find.


	10. Of Conspiracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Fergus have some planning to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter... I wrote it just because some things about the Colt's whereabouts had to be addressed before next chapter.

"No progress in finding Daddy, eh, sweetheart?" Fergus guessed without greeting or turning around when Castiel arrived into his lair – which was really a manor, but Fergus insisted to use the term "lair": "It sounds more conspiring, that way", he had said, and Castiel had accepted that.

"You don't sound very surprised", Castiel remarked icily, and looked around in demon's study. It wasn't cozy as Aziraphale's house, or modern as Crowley's apartment, where Castiel had once visited when his brother had promised to go and water Crowley's plants. Here, everything was massive and impressive, and had a certain sense of style in it; style that talked about power, authority and money.

Fergus shrugged. "Well, if He has managed to stay away from long, I see no reason for Him to pop up now – Besides, I'm still not convinced if the guy even exist."

"You are a demon, who lives in Hell – and you're talking with angel of Lord, who comes from Heaven – and still you doubt God's existence?"

"Well, what can I say? Healthy skepticism, that's it…" Fergus finally turned around, glass in his hand, and stalked closer. "So… Plan A was shot down – no big surprises here – so what shall we try next?"

"I… I don't know", Castiel admitted. Fergus came to stood little too close, but Castiel refused to move or show any sings of uneasiness. That made Fergus smirk a little.

"Well, good for you then, _I've_ a plan B", he said, and walked over to his desk and opened one of the drawers. "Did those two Winchesters never happen to mention you the Colt?"

"… It's a weapon. It's said to be able to kill almost anything."

"Well, let's just hope that that "anything" contains "anyone"… or, in this case – Lucifer", Fergus said and took out the gun. "This is the Colt, the masterpiece of late Samuel Colt."

"You… had it whole this time?" Castiel asked, and frowned suspiciously. "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

"'Cause I'm not especially _delighted_ to give it back to those two trigger-happy morons", Fergus explained. "But, as it seems, we no longer have other option left."

"I shall bring it to them", Castiel said hurriedly and took a step closer, but Fergus raised both his hands placatingly.

"Hold your horses, there! You can't simply give it to them; that would raise too many questions, like "where did you find it" or "how did you get it"… And let's be honest: You're not that good liar."

"Then I shall tell the truth…"

"The truth? That You've been working with a demon? Well, wouldn't that go just splendidly… In best case, they would think that I'm using you to some nefarious reasons – and in worst scenario, they may think that you've once again switched sides - Don't even try to deny it, Castiel… you've a bad track-record on that area! - In any case, they wouldn't trust you any more."

As much as Castiel hated to admit it, Fergus was probably right. "So what should we do, then?" he asked, little sulkily.

"Well luckily to you, I've got a plan for that, too; some time ago, the Winchesters met this delightfully dunderheaded fan of theirs – Becky something, I think – and I know this site she uses to spread her Winchester-knowledge. Now, I'm going to have a nice little chat with her about the Colt's whereabouts, and then make sure that she relies her findings back to her idols. Simple, aren't it?"

Castiel frowned. "How is that "simple"? And how are you going to make sure that they meet again?"

Fergus smirked. "Because I'm going to ask her, "wouldn't it be wonderful to have a con about our favourite book series?"… Really, it's not that hard. She'll bite the idea, I'll make sure that financial side is handled – as a _great fan_ that I am, indeed – and she'll make sure that the Winchesters will be there! And if I play my cards right, She may even think that it was her own idea all the time!"

Fergus was really proud of himself, but was put down quickly as Castiel tilted his head and asked, "What's this "con" you're talking about?"

Fergus sighed and rubbed his temples. "Ughh… For a moment, I forget that it was you I was talking to. It's short of convention, and... You know what? Just forget it. All you need to know is that I've got a plan, it works and you don't need to worry about it."

"If you say so…"

"So I say. Once the Winchesters have got this information, they will probably ask for you to find me. It would be best if you took for you at least day or two to do so."

"I understand. Any sooner that that would rise some suspicions, right?"

"Right. It's good to see that we're on same page, darling."

"I just hope that your plan is successful", Castiel added, already preparing to leave. He didn't want to spent too much time near the demon; it would only make him think too much about how little it really bothered him to be around the said demon.

"You'll find, honey, that my plans hardly ever fail", Fergus answered smugly, and raised his glass as a good bye while Castiel flew away.


	11. Of Trust and Pagan God's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Colt failed, Castiel and Fergus has to form a new plan to defeat Lucifer... and make a call for a possible ally.

Fergus talked as soon as he felt Castiel appearing behind him in his current hiding place. "I didn't know that the Colt would not work."

"… I never doubted that."

Surprised, Fergus whipped his head around. "What?!"

Castiel stood there, his head tilted and light frown on his face. "I never doubted your sincerity, in this case at least. I know that you want Lucifer gone just us much us we do, so you would not double-cross us."

That was… weirdly touching. The angel had his familiar "little lost puppy-dog" -expression on his face. It was almost maddeningly cute, and reminded Fergus about his own hellhound while he had still been a mere pup. Maybe he should get it a younger playmate…

 _Yeah, expect that you, my good fellow, are in exile_ , he reminded himself.

"So what do you want, then?"

Castiel stepped little closer, and against his better judgement, Fergus allowed it; the angel had trusted him – on certain terms – so it was only fair from him to show some faith, in turn. "You've been missing. Aziraphale and your… father… has been worried about your whereabouts."

Fergus sneered. "So you offered to look after me? How nice of you. Well, as you can see, I'm all peachy, considering that my house was burned down, my tailor was eaten up, and I've been hiding under a rock like some MAGGOT!"

Castiel frowned. "I fail to believe that you would crawl under rocks…"

"It's an expression! For Hell's sake, it's a blessing you at least have your looks…"

Castiel looked little peeved by that. "Don't test me, demon… or I might feel tempted to smite you anyway."

"Like to play it rough, don't you?"

This time Castiel only rolled his eyes; the silent sing of frustration that he had probably picked up from Winchester's – probably because it was used by them _a lot_ around this peculiar angel. "This is pointless…"

"It's called "small-talk", honey… or maybe "bantering", I always get those two mixed up… Well, that certainly explains something, doesn't it?"

By this, Fergus earned strict glare from his companion. "Could you please take this seriously, Fergus? I also wanted to talk with you about the current situation."

"The "current situation" is that we're busted…"

"Fergus, please; I can see that you're irritated, but we're running out of time."

"'Irritated' is putting it lightly", the demon muttered. "Very well: The Colt failed. Any ideas of what we could try next?"

The angel fidgeted by this. "… I was hoping that maybe you had."

Fergus snorted. "Why doesn't that surprise me…? Very well, what about our mighty hunters – whatever may they be planning nowadays?"

"They are still rather crushed about losing their friends."

"Maybe I've been putting too much trust in them if that's all it takes crush their spirit…"

Castiel scowled at him. "They are also very angry, both at Lucifer and _you_. Don't underestimate them: As soon as they got a littlest clue of what they should try next, they won't give up till war is over and won."

"Or lost", Fergus reminded.

"We won't let them lose."

"Talk about yourself; if it starts to look that we're losing this, I sign myself right out of this team."

The angel had nerve to actually smile. "So you say."

Fergus frowned suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean, feathers?"

"I think that when times games, you'll rather die fighting than surrender to serve someone you despise", Castiel said.

 _The blasted angel thinks that he knows me!_ Fergus raged inwardly. And, what was even worse, he was right: Fergus had no intentions to bow to anyone, least of all to Lucifer.

"Your high opinions of me are insulting", he sniffed. "… So, neither still knows what we should do next."

Castiel sighed. "If only we could consult Aziraphale…"

"No way! You promised that they would be kept out of this mess!"

"Yes, but as one of Principalities, there must be lot that he knows about Lucifer and how he was originally put in the Cage…"

"No buts! We can ask someone else, if we have to", Fergus said with an air of finality.

"Like whom?" Castiel asked, now clearly frustrated and little angry. "I'm not saying that it's an ideal choice for me, either, but if you haven't forgotten all other angels are siding with Mikael and actually want this to happen!"

Fergus opened his mouth, beginning to shout some more, when an orphan idea came into his mind. "All of them…?" he asked sneakily.

"Yes, and if we don't do something soon, they – wait. You're… you're not thinking about what I think you're thinking, are you?"

"If that's "who" which you think that I'm thinking, then I think that we're thinking the same person."

"Um…"

Fergus shook his head. "I'm talking about your Gabriel, you dimwit! Your brother, one of the archangels? Likes to play pagan? Ring any bells?"

"I know who you're talking about! I just… I think it's clear that he already made his point-of-view about this all quite clear."

"Well, maybe we just need to make him change his perception, right? …So, how can we contact him?"

"I-I don't know…"

"… Talk about fallen-apart family."

"But he has been living in rogue several thousands of years!" Castiel snapped.

Fergus sighed and rubbed his neck. "Well, shit." He really didn't want to do this. "Well, lucky to you, I know someone who probably knows where he is or at least could tell as where to find him… Though with him, it's never quite that easy…"

"Really?" Castiel asked, both hopeful but wary.

"Yes", Fergus shortly answered.

"…You don't sound very pleased about this."

Fergus groaned. "Let's just say, that with this person, you never know what turn the events will take. He likes to cause chaos, just because of it, and that may be the reason I can persuade him to help us, but… Like I said, you can never be sure."

"Then who is this person?"

Fergus shrugged, pretentiously nonchalant. "Wouldn't you imagine that if someone let's someone else to use his name, he would also keep tabs on the said parson?"

"You mean… Loke?" Castiel asked and shuddered a bit; the pagan god had always been unpredictable and dangerous, and rumor said that he had also gone crazy…

"Indeed."

"But – why do you think he would even answer to us?"

"Because, apparently, he and my father has some history; old drinking buddies, I should guess… So… Should we make a call~?"

* * *

Giving call to one of the most dangerous beings out there, now that's what could be called a good way to spend some time – at least, if the speaker was a complete moron. Fergus felt his hands getting most with cold sweat as he held his cell against his ear. He found himself hoping, childishly, that no-one would answer…

"Hello~?"

No such luck. "And hello to you, oh mightiest of Nordic pantheon; I, Fergus Crowley's son, am humbly asking your assistance in my time of need", Fergus spouted, feeling quite stupid – but even stupider would be go straight to the business.

"Fergus? Oh, you delightful young lad~! How have you been? It's been told that you've made a quite mess for yourself – stepped on dear old Luci's feet, maybe~?"

"That's would be true, your highness", he admitted. "And that's why I'm asking your assistance."

"Me? How could I possibly be useful to you?" Loke asked, his voice full with feigned wonder.

"There's something that my… partner and I need to ask from Archangel Gabriel. You once let him borrow your name to hide from his brethren; can you tell us about his whereabouts?"

"Hmm-mmm~ and why should I think that you deserve my help, little Fergus?" Loke purred like a smug cat. Fergus could imagine him stretching his long body accordingly. "What can you offer me as a counter-service?"

"Other than a world where Heaven and Hell will continue their battle over the souls of mankind?"

Loke chuckled. "Tempting, dear child… And yet; aren't that kind of cheap promise? What if I help you, and yet you still end up losing your battle against both Hell and Heaven? I would had given up my precious time for a naught."

 _Precious time my butt_ , Fergus thought petulantly. "And what else there would be that poor me could offer to you, highness?"

"Oh, not much~ just a little favor; there's something that used to be mine – someone, that is – and I yearn to have him back."

"And does his soul dwell in Hell?" Fergus asked hopefully.

Loke purred. "No; my dear, sweet Fenrir, bound by Gleipnir and Thor's cursed blade, remains in the belly of Purgatory. The favor I ask for you, should you succeed in your quest, is his freedom."

Fergus couldn't say that he was happy with that, but at least it wasn't as bad deal as it could have been. "I promise to anything I can to free your honored son, highness", he pledged.

"Hmm-mm… You bets to keep your word, my wee Fergus~"

Then the line went silent.

"Wait, you-! Oh, son of-!" Fergus cursed, but right then he heard an unfamiliar voice somewhere behind him saying,

"You gotta be kidding me!"

Fergus turned around, and both he and Castiel stared at half-naked Archangel Gabriel, who was laying on his sofa, looking like he had been just dropped on it from the clear sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that this may be my first ever cliff-hanger...


	12. Of Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel takes a lead and tells about conversations that will eventually carry him in to the certain hotel in Indiana...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time trying to write something in narrators poin-of-view... May very well be the last, as well. Gabriel just didn't consent to any less than that.

What a… _peculiar_ situation. Here I was, getting intimate with two stunning goddesses, and suddenly I was sprawled over a shabby sofa in some run-down house with little Castiel and _a demon_ , of all beings!

"Well… This is unexpected", I said and sat up, not even bothering to hide my half-way nudity. Castiel didn't seem to care in a way or another – does he have anything below his waist, anyways? – and the demon only scoffed and went to fix himself a drink. Rather boisterous move, since it meant that he had to turn his back towards the possible threat, and that's probably was the idea – to show how little he cared about archangel appearing in the room. I had to admit that the little guy got some spunk.

"So, where's the party, Castiel?" I asked.

"We need your help, Gabriel." Trust that my little-brother never wastes his words.

"I had a delusion that I already told you what's my opinion about the matter", I pointed out.

I was little surprised when the demon came back to us and offered me a glass. As I raised my eyebrow questioning manner, he just shrugged and said, "Well, drinking is always better with company. Just don't give anything to our other feathered fella here – he has bad track-record."

Castiel frowned rather adorably. "I got over it", he said sulkily.

"You drank a whole liquor shop empty!"

"…It was only once…"

"Be what it might, but I need you on focus, so no drinks on my watch, sweetie!"

Listening their banter made me honestly feel even more baffled, since it sounded almost… fond; something that may happen between two close friends. But surely Castiel wouldn't be naive enough to actually become friendly with a demon…?

And speaking about the demon, there was something… strange in him. Inside his meatsuit, he seemed pretty much like the others – ugly little buggers, they are – but there was still something else, something that I had a hard time to point my finger on, buried deep inside of his ruined form. It was almost like… very thin memento of grace. Not strong enough to belong to an angel, even a fallen one, but certainly enough to belong to…

"Nephilim", I said out of loud, and they both turned to look at me, Castiel looking little lost and the demon down-right furious. "You're a _Nephilim_ , turned into a demon… First time I see something like that…"

Castiel turned back towards the demon, looking like a betrayed puppy-dog. "You never told me that, Fergus."

The demon called Fergus sighed with irritation. "You've met my father, Castiel; I thought that it was implied, since no matter how close he is with Aziraphale, neither of them has even thought about making effort for each other –"

Hearing Aziraphale's name made a little feeling of nostalgia surge through me. He had once belonged in my garrison, after all, before that little mess with flaming sword… He was a friendly guy, at least as long as no-one made mess in the Heaven's library, when he reminded them exactly why he was one of the Principalities.

As what came to this demon's father… Well, hadn't Aziraphale always been a little too close with so-called Snake of Eden…?

"So, you know Aziraphale, then? Does he still walk with his nose buried into a book?" I asked, now honestly intrigued; it has been so long…

"Nah, father made him stop that after he almost stepped on him", the demon answered, confirming my speculation.

I smiled wryly. "Let me guess: Your father's name is Crawly."

" _Crowley_ ", the demon corrected by pure instinct, before looking at me with wary eyes. "Why do you ask?"

I shrugged. "They always seemed to enjoy each other's company a little too much for someone's who fight on a different sides… and it seems to be inheritable feature", I continued pointedly.

"We are not "enjoying" the company", Castiel said, looking little offended. "We're just allies due similar interest."

"And here I thought there was something bigger than life going on between the two of us", the demon sighed dramatically. That he probably got from his mother's side – Crawly, or Crowley, never seemed to have any theatrical tendencies. Not that I knew him that well – even in Heaven, before Lucifer's fall, he was known to be a little odd fella, always looking things at different point-of-view and making suggestions that almost could have been called heretic.

But little Crowley having a son…! Well, that was surprise; he never seemed to have any interest towards women duiring those very old days, before it was decided that angels should no more lay with humans. Back then, Nephilims were considered almost common accuracies – as opposite of nowadays, when they're considered being abominations even more monstrous than demons.

I guess that that's one reason of why Crowley let his son become a demon; It's easier to hide one abomination into the horde of others.

But as interesting as that all was, I wasn't about to let them distract me; I wanted the war to be over, period, and that meant that the Winchesters had to play their part.

"Not like I've got anything against little family reunion every now and then, but as you can probably guess from my state of undressing, I had something important going on, so…" I tried to fly away, but it was like slamming against see-thorough wall; the whole place was warded.

I turned to glare the demon, who shrugged innocently. "Not my doing."

"Whose, then? I doubt that Castiel could make something like this in his pitiful current state." And of course I felt bad as soon as I had let that frog out of my mouth; my poor brother didn't need any reminders about how much of his power he had already lost.

Castiel took my barf with dignity. "Loke promised us a change to talk with you; I doubt you'll be able to leave before we've done just that."

"Loke?" Oh Father, did they really have to bring him into this…? "Castiel, you should know better than make deals with pagans!"

My brother didn't look very impressed. "You certainly aren't giving me a good example about that."

"Where – Where does that snarkiness come from?" I exclaimed. It must be that demon – or maybe those Winchesters. I should really smite them all for corrupting my innocent little brother like this!

The demon had audacity to roll his eyes. "Cut out the dramatics, will you?" (Like he's in any place to say that to me, damn drama queen!) "We need some info. Can you tell us anything about how Lucifer was originally captured?"

"Maybe I could, but why should I?" I said sullenly – yes, it's childish, but I don't much appreciate of being held in custody.

Castiel seemed disappointed – and really, was he really still holding any high regards towards me? That boy needs better role-models, asap. "Don't you care at all what happens to this world?" he demands.

I shrugged. "No, why should I? It's not like the world cares about us, either. Besides, we already had this chat, remember? Me, you and Winchesters in the warehouse?"

"Why did I miss that party?" the demon mutters.

"But we're not asking you to fight for us or even actively to take part any of this; just tell us what you know about Lucifer's first imprisonment and we'll work out something of it", Castiel said pleadingly.

"And then he'll escape again one day and it all will start again", I said little nasally. After seeing how he looked at me, I sighed and continued, "…Castiel, I can't take this again. It was bad enough at the first time, and this time it'll be horrible… but at lest, it'll be over, once and for all."

"After taking half of the world with it", the demon pointed out.

I measured him coldly. "I can't see why you would care about that, demon; you're just looking out for yourself."

"Maybe, but so are you; at least my interest are similar as everyone else's who actually lives in this world", he answered just as frostily.

I shook my head. "Sorry, but I'm not able to help you."

The demon snorted. "No – You're just too cowardly to stood against your family even when you know that they're wrong."

It reminded me so strongly about what the Winchester's had said, that it took me a moment before I realized that this abomination had just offended me, and then it was already too late to get mad without sounding like a moron.

Not that it mattered, anyway: they both already looked at me like I was just a one big, worthless moron.

The look of betrayal in Castiel's eyes was almost too much to take: when will that kid understand that there are no heroes around here - but selfish bastards who will first and foremost seek their own ends?

The demon threw his arms up in the air. "Well, this was useless, wasn't it?" he hissed. "You're just leaving us to fight against both sides, while you hide beneath a rock somewhere and do… What, exactly? Hope that the world will still be in one piece when you finally crawl out?"

"They're my _family_ ", I hissed back.

"So they are mine", Castiel pointed out, "but I know to not stand aside and watch while they lay ruin over us all."

"But you never know them!" I argued. "Not like I do, at least. You don't know how it was back then, when we all lived together in Heaven, as a family. We cared about each other's!"

"Well, buu-huu", the demon muttered. "As if you're the first and only person in the world ever having a problematic family relationship… Still, you don't seem to have any remorse of forcing the Winchesters to go thorough same thing as you did."

That hit the target, but there was no way I could have ever admitted that. "It's not like you care about them either, abomination!"

The demon snorted. "Them? Hell no! But I just had this silly idea that you would."

Castiel sighed. "You're right, Fergus", he said, "This is useless. Just… mark the discussion completed and let him go. I don't think I can stand his presence right now." And curse me, doesn't that flat, disappointed voice of his cut me right thorough my heart!

The demon seems to be ready to do just that – well, I think he would be more than ready to cut me with the angel blade, but I doubt that Castiel would even now to be ready to allow that – but then I see his eyes narrowing, as if he just got an idea, and for some reason, I feel little shudder of foreboding go through my spine. This can't be good…

"Let's do this: I'll let you go – and you promise to me to visit this one certain place called Lower Tadfield, England, UK."

That was my turn to snort. "So you could attack me with your demon buddies without Castiel witnessing it? Dream on."

The demon shrugged. "At this point, thanks to you brother, I hardly have any demonic buddies to call. And even if I had, they wouldn't be able to go there… Hell, even I can't! The one who lives there wouldn't let us cross the borders."

That sounded little alarming. "Who he is?" I asked, even though I had already decided to stay as far of that place as possible.

The demon only tapped his nose. "That's me to know, and you to find out!" he said, smiling rather irritatingly.

"And what makes you think I would do that after you release me?" I pressed on with suspicion. "Not like I want to offend – no, actually I do! – but you don't look very trusting type of guy."

"Oh, I think I'm ready to trust your curiosity", the demon said smugly.

_Damn._

* * *

After I was released, I had no intention to go even near of Lower Tadfield, ever. Actually, I thought that staying far from whole England, in period, would be wise thing to do.

But about one thing the demon had been right: my curiosity had always been one of my fatal weaknesses.

So, three days later, I found myself trailing the borders of the little village that looked like something that could be printed on postcard. There was something classically British in it, with its pub and church and post office and little village store and all those picturesque houses where lived people so stereotyped Britons that I first thought that I had been trapped into my own spell – that had to be a set for a TV-series!

Still, it wasn't the village that made me feel like crying; it was the atmosphere. The feeling of pure love, like someone, somewhere, really cherished this place.

It was like Heaven once was… as it was meant to stay.

I could have just laid down there and stay, never moving another muscle and still be completely satisfied.

I heard a distant barking of a dog, and turned around to see young man walking towards me, his mutt twirling around his legs, waving its tail and barking like a madman. There was something little off in the dog, like it wasn't what it seemed to be, but before I had time to think more about it, the young man came close enough for me to see his face.

It took my breath away. Those were _Lucifer's_ face; his eyes, his nose. Even the smile quirking the man's lips was same as my brother once had, before it turned into a parody of itself not long before his fall.

I didn't think twice to know who this boy was – the strange thing being, that even while standing only a few steps apart of him, I felt no threat coming towards me. He just stood there, smiling as he measured me with his gaze before nodding as if he had just confirmed something and taking one hand out of his pocket, offered me an apple.

"My name's Adam Young. I think that the two of us have a lot to talk about, uncle."

* * *

I won't tell you the whole contest of what we talked about. The thing about aborted Apocalypse and Adam's impact on it has already been written down elsewhere (and one day I'm really going to hunt down Aziraphale and ask him to tell me the whole thing of his own point-of-view, and maybe I'll make Crawly – _Crowley_ – to do just the same thing), and what comes to the rest of it, well, that was _personal_. What I can tell you, though, is that we talked a lot about families and person's freedom to decide his own destiny, no matter what everyone else has to say about it. Not once Adam tried to pressure me in a way or another – I think that that's against his philosophy or something – but he listened, and damn, if it wasn't like good old days, me and Lucifer just sitting and chatting like there was nothing wrong in the world – expect, this time there was everything wrong in the world and the most of all in Lucifer himself, and the person sitting on my side wasn't my brother but nephew, resigned Antichrist, but you get the idea.

Anyway, it got me thinking… So many persons have already decided to defy their so-called destiny: Adam, Castiel, Aziraphale, the Winchester brothers… even Crowley and his half-demon, half-Nephilim son.

How could I, Gabriel, the trickster supreme, do anything less than that?

_That_ would be just humiliating.


	13. Of Apocalypse and Beyond (AKA Series of Snap-Shots)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Series of drabbles covering up the end of season 5 and the most of the season 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written drabbles before! I just hope these came out as a reasonable way to cover up a long timeperiod where most of the changes are minor and even those which are important wont really need a whole chapter to explain themselves, and not just make the author seem lazy (though it may be a little bit that, too...)!

**Fergus**

* * *

**1.**

"Gabriel's dead."

And if it hurts him to hear such of pain in Castiel's voice, Fergus doesn't show anything. Instead he just grabs the two glasses of Craig he had poured earlier, and offers one of them to the angel.

"For his memory", he says as Castiel just stares at the glass. Finally Castiel nods and takes the glass, emptying it with one gulp, while Crowley drinks his own beverage with little more self-control.

Later he rubs circles in the angel's back as he cries and wonders how is it possible that his life has came to this.

He doesn't find it in himself to really complain.

/

**2.**

His first impression about the Winchester brothers after seeing them was: Dimwits.

Next time, Fergus grudgingly admits that there might be little more than that; at least, the older brother seems to be able to develop. If only he wouldn't let his holier-than-thou brother to drag him down…

But whatever they are or aren't, one thing is always sure:

They are dangerous.

/

**3.**

He has always been little weak for a older men with a beard. Fergus thinks that it might be some leftovers of his previous father-issues; because, even if he now has a father and it's all good and fine and rainbows and unicorns in that area, he still spent whole his life as a human without one.

And some things seems to stick.

(Of course, it doesn't help at all that the man is so damn good kisser.)

/

**4.**

He sees the way Castiel looks at Dean Winchester, and it's a pitiful sight, really; the angel's eyes are full of faith and admiration, even when he tries to be disapproving. Castiel might have lost his believe, but he still hopes, so deeply, that the Righteous Man will end up setting things right.

Fergus knows; the angel is in love, even though he probably doesn't realize it by himself.

Even a demon can feel little sympathy over hopeless case like that.

Since as long as Sam Winchester exist, his brother's loyalty and devotion belongs solely to him, as Sam's belong to him. It's a horribly unhealthy, almost symbiotic way that they're living their life's, and anyone else who gets tangled into it will eventually get burned.

He only hopes that he has enough salve to soothe the burns after Castiel has to pay his toll someday.

/

**5.**

Castiel isn't exactly happy about his little deal with Bobby, though Fergus swears to him that it's only a temporary occurrence.

It might be that the angel that knows him too well to believe it.

Fergus never let's go of something that's worth of keeping.

* * *

**Castiel**

* * *

**1.**

Lying to Aziraphale is _hard_.

No matter how many times Fergus tells him that it's for his on good, it still doesn't make it feel any better when Castiel sits in his brother's kitchen and looks at his all too forgiving eyes as he once again swears that everything is _fine_.

Only way he can deal with that is to visit Aziraphale less than before, and try to not recognize the poorly veiled look of disappointment on his face.

Sometimes he envies Fergus for his lack of conscience.

/

**2.**

Facing of the horsemen makes him feel how weak he has really became. He aren't able to be any use for Dean, he's more like a burden than an ally.

He's happily surprised of not being ditched; then again, there are only so many of them; they cannot offer to lose even useless ones.

But Castiel is tired of being useless.

And Bobby is more than happy to teach him how to use gun.

/

**3.**

They lost Sam.

For a moment, he thinks that Dean may be too crushed to continue, but is soon reminded of just _who_ he was thinking about. Dean won't give up, at lest not of his brother.

Castiel can't help but feel great admiration towards him because of that, and is little confused of why that makes his chest feel little heavier.

Like he's carrying something fragile and precious inside of him.

/

**4.**

Between those short seconds before Michael releases his power against him, Castiel has time to think just what kind of face would Fergus show, would he ever hear him calling anyone to "assbutt".

It's almost enough to make him smile a bit.

/

**5.**

He knows that everything isn't as it should as soon as Sam stands up and forces him to promise to not tell Dean about his return, before walking away hardly even sharing a brief glance towards his brother.

But he has Dean and Bobby to worry about, so he pushes his thoughts aside.

The look in Dean's eyes when he wakes up and finds out that his brother is (as far as he knows) trapped in the cage with Lucifer, almost makes Castiel to spill it anyway.

Then he remembers what Sam said about Dean being better of living normal life with Lisa, and that thing inside his breast grows many sides heavier.

Eventually, he just leaves without another word.

* * *

**Fergus**

* * *

**1.**

After Lucifer's fall, Hell is in total mess; Dukes of Hell are on riot and are trying to take the rule, but their ideals are outdated and find only little support in the midst of younger demons.

War is impossible to prevent.

Fergus lays down and watches the bloodshed with a glass of Craig in his hand.

He can afford to be patient.

His time will arise.

/

**2.**

Grown is bloody, but it's his.

Fergus knows that there will always be those who won't accept his rule, who will spite on his name and plan his demise.

He doesn't care.

He's the King of Hell.

And all who goes against him shall perish.

/

**3.**

He spends few days in thinking of how will he explain his new rise in power to his father and his angel; eventually, he decides to just trust their ignorance of whats been happening around there since their retirement.

Telling them that his position is strictly ceremonial and only landed to him as of him being previous ruler's, Lilith's, second-in-command of course eats him a bit, but is best explanation that he can come up with.

Their proud looks are all hi need to salve his bruised ego.

/

**4.**

Castiel doesn't seem to understand all the changes he has committed in Hell.

It's okay; he's still just and angel. He has never been a human, and his understanding of human nature will always remain limited.

Fergus, on the other hand, understands human nature _perfectly_.

"It's a queue, Feathers! They're the worst kind of torture you can come up with!"

He's his father's son, through and through.

/

**5.**

He offers Castiel a glass of Craig. "Let's toast; to the victory!"

Their glasses make clear sound when they clink them together. It's so much more cheerful now than the last time they drank glasses, and Fergus feels more alive than he never felt when he was alive in the first place.

Of course, there's still one little detail that he has to work out: The Purgatory. Loke will be waiting his payment sooner than later.

But right now, he doesn't feel like worrying about it too much.

* * *

**Castiel**

* * *

**1.**

Without Michael, Heaven starts to fall off of It's seams. He had kind of hoped that things could be better now; shows how much he knows, then.

Rafael is already making her move.

Without even knowing it, Castiel soon finds himself in the lead of opposing fraction.

This isn't what he had hoped for.

/

**2.**

First they try to find clues about the whereabouts of the Purgatory of Aziraphale's books. It's Fergus who then decides to interrogate monsters.

"If someone knows, that should be them!"

As a demon, Fergus' interrogating methods are brutal; Castiel isn't sure how he feels about that.

On the other hand, those kinds of methods aren't as unfamiliar in Heaven than he would like to pretend: He remembers what he and Uriel once asked Dean to do for them.

After that, he has no right to complain.

/

**3.**

Dean has found Sam; Fergus is little too gleeful of that than Castiel is okay with.

He's also not practically happy to find out that Fergus has been using Dean and Sam's grandfather to capture monsters. He makes it clear, that after this, the demon will tell him about all his plans _beforehand_ ; for once, Fergus seems to listen.

It may be because of how Castiel held him against the wall, hand around his throat as he said it.

He's dealing with lots of stress right now; the demon would do well of not pushing his buttons.

/

**4.**

Fergus hadn't returned Bobby's soul, even after he promised to do so.

Castiel is hardly surprised by that; souls are too important, their power too vital to let even one to go wasted.

Souls.

Castiel himself would have use for a few extra souls in his side of the war.

But where to get those…?

/

**5.**

It's all so clear now…

Why hadn't he see it earlier?

Castiel made a mistake…

He brought Sam back from the Cage without his soul.

* * *

**Fergus**

* * *

**1.**

Soulless Sam is all the new kinds of hilarious; the boy is now closer a demon than any other living human has ever been.

Castiel bugs him to give the soul back; clearly he has learned little next to nothing about how tings like this work…

Rule number one: nothing is **ever** free.

/

**2.**

Having the Winchesters as his new errand boys was great as long as it lasted; who knew that they would unite with Meg?

…And he really should had killed that little bitch when he still had a change.

Thankfully, Castiel is up-to-date with the situation, and they manage to even fake his demise.

Maybe he now has time to concentrate on the main point…

/

**3.**

Loke start to become impatient; their time starts to run out.

…Fergus really doesn't want to deal with irritated god of chaos.

/

**4.**

The Winchesters seems to be everywhere nowadays.

One would though that they would take things little more easier for a time being.

The wall the Death put around Sam's soul is strong, but not without cracks; someday, it will gave up.

He's not all that sure if he wants to see the downfall of that; or what will be left of Moose, afterwards.

… After all, good opponents are hard to find.

/

**5.**

Eve is a one nasty surprise. There are rules in this game, and she just marched right in and turned them around!

Not that he cares as much as he could; Fergus has already decided that trying to find the way to the Purgatory from monsters is futile mission.

But even monsters need to die before they get there.

Even monsters need reapers… and not all reapers are hard to convince.

Still, he hopes that the Winchester will for once do something useful and get rid of that bitch as quickly as possible…

He's never cared a lot about competition.

* * *

**Castiel**

* * *

**1.**

The Purgatory. Monsters. Souls.

Surely Fergus realized the same for a long time ago? Realized, that while retrieving Fenris, it would be easy to take possession over those souls that dwell in the Purgatory?

Is that what he planned all along?

Well, that won't do; the demon has enough power as it is. Castiel, on the other hand, is in the middle of the war that he can't afford to lose.

It's not really a betrayal if other side tried to betray you in the first place, right?

Right…?

/

**2.**

It feels good to have Balthazar in his corner; it's been such a long time since he has been able to share everything with another angel.

(He stubbornly refuses to think about Aziraphale. He will explain him everything once he has put Heaven back as it should be; his brother will understand that it was all for the greater good.)

/

**3.**

_They know._

Bobby has been suspicious ever since Fergus' "death", and now Sam backs him up. Dean's pleads for him to prove his innocent makes him squirm, but there's nothing he can deny; everything that's said is true.

The look of devastation and betrayal on Dean's face makes something inside of him crumble and break.

/

**4.**

Fergus has found a rogue soul reaper who is able to take them to the Purgatory and back. Now they only need to make sure that Dean and Sam won't come to interrupt them.

When someone voices their best opinion, it takes Castiel a few seconds to realize that it indeed is him who's saying those ruthless words.

He doesn't know how to descript the look on Fergus' face as he looks at him; part of him doesn't even want to.

/

**5.**

_I'll fix this later_ , he promises to himself. _That's the only way to make sure that they won't follow us._

Still, when he breaks off the wall in Sam's head, that bruised and broken thing inside of him shudders like it was dying out.

_When we're done, they'll see that I was right in my actions, and they will forgive me._

He doesn't find it in himself to actually believe it.


	14. Of the Purgatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Fergus finally enter to the Purgatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My longest chapter yet... all stuff considering norse mythology is explained in the footnotes.

The Reaper that Fergus had bought (“not literally”, as he had swore to Castiel), was a little sneaky-looking guy, and not by any means someone that Castiel would had put his fate on in any regular situation. He kept fidgeting and practically begging Fergus to not rat him out about this later, while his eyes gleamed with greed as Fergus casually reminded him how much he would pay for him from this little escapade.

_Cowardly opportunist_ , Castiel summed up, _and way too greedy for his own good._

They were currently making last adjustments to the details of their plan - which wasn’t all that grant to the begin with: get in, find Fenrir, break the chain that’s told to be unbreakable (Fergus swore he had planned out something that would work on here) and get out of there before the whole Purgatory is on your heels.

_And while on it, swallow in as many souls as you can_ , Castiel added in his mind. He had found the spell he needed for that; it had been in the locker of Fergus’ desk, which meant that he was right about the demon thinking the same thing as he did.

Suddenly, the roar of car’s engines shook him out of his thought; it took him no time to guess who it might be, and quick eye-contact with Fergus proved that he thought exactly the same; the Winchesters were coming.

“One would thought that little brother’s succumb to the world of madness would at least slow them down a bit, but these nut-heads never do anything as presumed”, Fergus growled frustratedly.

Castiel didn’t say anything; part of him was relieved that Dean was still coherent enough to find a way to follow them, but on the other hand, he knew that he now would have to face them again way too soon, and this time he had done the unforgivable thing: He had hurt Sam.

Fergus clearly wasn’t up to start any fights: quickly, he took out of pocket a little bag of powder that smelled herbs and, suspiciously enough, blood. “Don’t worry”, the demon placated as he saw Castiel staring at him, “this will only slow them down. One of the tricks dear old mom once taught me…”

Castiel nodded.

The doors of the warehouse where they were were pushed open, revealing enraged yet determined Dean and Bobby with their guns out and a very out-of-my-mind-looking Sam.

“Castiel! You better fix Sam up right now, you bastard, or I’m going to-!”

Castiel never get to know with what Dean was going to threaten him, since right then Fergus threw the powder over them. The angel watched as their all muscles seemed to simultaneously cramp, and the hunters started to fall down, looking surprised and little panicked – minus Sam, who quite probably didn’t even realize what was happening around him.

“I told you I’m a son of witch”, Fergus reminded with leisure tone as he stepped towards the fallen hunters and carefully lifted Dean’s chin with the tip of his shoe. “But please, don’t get too worked out; this is only a temporary paralysis. You’ll start feeling your muscles again after few hours – which means that my feathered friend and I have a plenty of time to get in to the Purgatory and back without a fear to get a knife thrown into our backs.”

Dean glared the demon murderously, and Castiel had no doubt that if he could move, he would have killed Fergus on the spot.

Fergus just shrugged, and then, after glancing towards Bobby, took off his jacket and almost gently placed it on the top of older hunter’s shoulders. “On your age, laying on the floors won’t do you any favors”, he admonishes, as if Bobby was himself in fault of his own situation. Man’s look was little bewildered, but Castiel wasn’t really all that surprised be the demon’s actions; Fergus had really marked Bobby as his to toy around with, and as a cat, he enjoyed the game too much to cut it out too early.

“And don’t you worry too much about Samantha; I’m sure that once we return, Castiel will be more than happy to aid him back to his previous, questionable sanity!”

By that, Dean glared at Castiel, the betrayal and rage so clear in his eyes that the angel felt like he’d been physically hit.

It hurt, so much actually, that he would had far preferred the actual punch in the face.

“I’ll fix this, Dean”, Castiel promised. “You’ll see; I’ll fix it all.”

There was no relent in Dean’s gaze, and Castiel couldn’t find out anything else to say. Instead, he turned towards Fergus. “Can we just leave then here like this?”

Fergus shrugged. “Why not? The whole warehouse is warded against any supernatural being, including both angels and demons, and my little pets outside will keep curious bystanders out of our hair. Seriously, the only reason that the Winchesters get in is because I’ve precisely ordered my precious Hellhounds to not engage to any battle with them.”

Castiel nodded absentmindedly; he know how fond Fergus was to his Hellhounds; so fond, actually, that it could be referred as love, have Fergus not been a demon and unable to express that kind of feeling. _But is it really so?,_ some traitorous part of his mind commented. _Maybe demons – and this one particularly - are capable to a lot more than Heaven gives them credit for…_

He was shaken out of his worrisome thought by Fergus, who said, “Well, we’ve wasted enough time for these three, already; let’s get move on.”

Castiel shook his head a bit to clear his mind before following Fergus to where the Reaper was standing. He took their hands, and Castiel had just time to register that the Reaper’s palm was damp with sweat, before world around them disappeared.

So, it didn’t go even a near as smoothly as they had hoped for, but eventually they made what they needed to do: They get to the Purgatory.

* * *

The landscape was very… gray. That was the first impression that Castiel got once the Reaper let go of their hands and they had time to look around. They were standing in the forest, and if Castiel listened very hard, he could hear the noise of flowing water; so there was a river nearby.

“Now you need to follow the river till it flows to the valley; there you’ll find the… creature you’re looking for.”

“And how do we find him once we get there?” Fergus questioned.

“Believe me, it’s impossible to miss”, the Reaper swore. “But be aware, that every creature out there would be more than happy to kill you, especially you, angel; they really hate your kind here. And you’ll need to come back in this specific spot in twelve hours; once I return, I’ll only wait three minutes, not longer.”

Fergus looked at him searchingly. “Oh? And I guess there’s no other ways out, then?”

The Reaper fidgeted. “I-I can’t tell you! Even bringing you here is strictly against the orders, but showing you the gateways… No, I can’t do that!”

Fergus eyes got reddish gleam in them. “Oh? Are you sure…?”

Castiel came to stand between the two of them. “Thank you”, he said quickly to the Reaper, “we’ll take a heed of your warning, and be back in time. You’ve a clock, don’t you, Fergus?”

Sighing, Fergus show him rather expensive-looking pocket-watch before saying, “Are we going, then?” Castiel didn’t miss the grumpy tone of his voice.

The Reaper disappeared, and they started walking towards the river. Without saying a word, Fergus took out his knife and Castiel saw it as a hint to do the same.

It didn’t last long before Castiel realized that they weren’t alone anymore; he couldn’t see anyone, but did sense the unkind eyes that were following their every movements. He touched lightly Fergus’ arm, and the demon nodded; he had sensed the same.

“Keep walking”, Fergus hissed. “Let them make the first move.”

They didn’t need to wait long; first creature jumped down off the tree, mouth wide open and sharp teeth ready to bite down, but was cut down by Fergus before it had landed. Next one came behind them, only to be stopped by Castiel.

“These are vampires!” he said.

“No kidding”, Fergus growled back. More creatures were coming out from pushes, eyes gleaming murderously. “Well, we have no time to waste on brawling with these bloodsuckers!” Castiel realized that Fergus filled his hand with the same powder that he had used to the Hunters, and had just time to duck out before the demon dozed their persecutors with it, making them loose the control of their muscles.

While the Winchesters and Bobby hadn’t seemingly been in any pain after they’d been paralyzed, the vampires were a whole different thing; they were clearly in agony.

“Why does it have that kind of affect on them?” Castiel asked.

Fergus shrugged. “I added some dead-man’s blood and silver in the recipe; thought that simple paralyzing wouldn’t hold them down long enough.”

“…How much do you have that powder?”

“Hopefully enough to get us where Fenrir is; after that… Well, I’m kind of hoping that the big guy will be able to lend us some help.”

It wasn’t the first time that Castiel had a change to grudgingly admire just how resourceful the demon was. It seemed that Fergus was always having, not only a plan and a back-up plan, but also a back-out plan for the back-out plan.

_It’s no wonder how he became a king…_

They walked down low hill, found the river and started following it. Their journey continued as it had started, in silence, getting ambushed every now and then and putting up fight, using both their knives and Fergus’ powder to end the struggle as soon as possible. They needed to retain their strength, since neither of them had any idea just how far they would need to walk.

“We’ve been lucky, so far”, Fergus reminded as they were wiping their knives clean after an encounter with pack of werewolves. “The top-predators aren’t on our tail, yet.”

“What are they?” Castiel asked.

Fergus shrugged. “I don’t know any details”, he admitted, “but from what I read from Aziraphale’s library, God apparently banished something here – something he created even before you angels.”

Castiel frowned. “I’ve never heard about such species.”

“Join the club”, Fergus grunted and stretched his back. “Damn, this body’s getting _old!_ ”

“Are you planning to harvest a new one, then?” Castiel wasn’t sure how he felt about that; he knew that this body wasn’t _Fergus_ , but he had kind of gotten used for him to look like this.

“Nah, I like this one”, the demon answered. “Come on, feathers - let’s keep going…”

As they went farther, the landscape started becoming more and more bare. There were no longer trees, and all grass was withered and dead-looking. The river ran slower and became meager, and rocks were sharp-edged and unwelcoming. It was truly deserted place.

“Have you noticed something?” Fergus suddenly asked.

Castiel frowned. “No. What, then?”

“That we haven’t been ambushed quite some time. That means, that either we managed to scare them away”, sarcastic smile made it clear that the demon didn’t believe that being a case, “or we’re nearing a place where even monsters wont dare to set their foot.”

And as if called, they soon came to the edge of a cliff that sloped down to the deep valley.

“It’s more like a canyon”, Fergus commented, but absentmindedly. They both were little too busy to stare down to the deep. “Impossible to miss… He could have told us that this thing is HUGE!”

The valley was deep and wide, but This Thing – Fenrir – filled it almost completely. The wolf was near of the size of a mountain.

They stared down at it – him? – and it stared right back, it’s eyes wild and ravenous. It was thin, way too so for a beast of its size, and Castiel could easily count its ribs. There were many bald spots in its fur, and the loops of chain were bloody and rusty in where they had rubbed its skin raw. Its mouth was open, due the enormous sword that was stabbed right through its lower jaw, trapping it against the ground while the hilt prevented upper jaw from closing. The sword also hold down it’s tongue, making it impossible to speak, if it even had that talent, but it didn’t prevent it from growling, in the way that made that ground shake.

“Well, let’s introduce ourselves, then”, Fergus decided, and took few steps closer. The wolf growled louder and stretched its muscles, but the chains that hold it down didn’t allow it to move.

“Fenrir Lokason, I presume? I’m Crowley, the king of Hell, and my companion here is named Castiel, Thursday’s angel – kind of made its older namesake to lose his job, didn’t he?” He made a short pause, as if excepting some kind of answer from the wolf, before continuing. “Well, some time ago you papa – or was it mama? I never quite understood that god’s family tree…” At that point, the wolf huffed, as if to say, “I’m listening, demon; now get to the business. “Anyway, some time ago _Loki_ did us a favor, and we promised him a counter favor, and that brings us here; we’ve come to set you free.”

The wolf made a noise that almost sound like laughing; it ended short, probably because of the pain it was causing to it, but there was some bitter humor in its eyes. As if it was asking, “And how could you possibly manage to do that?”

“Oh, I’ve got my secrets; now, will you allow us to come closer, so we can reach your chains and at least _try_ to break them down?”

Humoring them, the wolf turned its head and allowed them to approach it until they stood in a place where chain came to ground near its neck. Gleipnir, as Castiel was remembering that Fergus had called it, seemed way too fragile to hold down such a huge beast as Fenrir, but once he touched it, he could feel just how strong it was.

“Well, we wont get any younger; let’s see if this works out…” Fergus took out a little bottle from his pocket and hold it carefully as if it could blow off any moment. “Shit, never dealing with this stuff after this…”

“What is it?” Castiel asked. The bottle was almost empty, only a few droplets of greenish liquid on the bottom of it.

“Only the most potent poison that there’s ever been, darling”, Fergus answered. “It’s called Eitr… Now, I need you to hold this”, he said and offered Castiel little chalice, “and once I drip one drop of thin into the chains, you’ll catch it before it hits the ground, okay?”

Castiel took another look of the bottle. “Is it that dangerous?”

Fergus shrugged. “Possibly more, but we can’t do any better than that… You ready?”

Castiel reached out his hand to take the chalice but then pulled it back.

Fergus looked incredulous. “What are you playing up now?!”

“Answer one question for me, first: When were you planning on telling me that you were going to take souls from here into your possession?”

Fergus seemed little stunned. “When… When did you get such an idea?”

Castiel was fuming. “Don’t play with me, demon! You knew that I was – that I _am_ \- desperate in my fight against Rafael; we’re you really planning to get power-boost from there and not even mention it to me?!”

“I – Well… Castiel, I never planned to leave you out of it, I just… I wanted to accomplish our first goal before telling you about this other option; I thought it would be easier for you to concentrate, that way. I mean, if I had told you about the souls from the very beginning, you would had wanted to do that _first_ and make sure that everything was fine at home before even thinking about going on our rescue mission – and Loki aren’t _that_ patient.”

“So when, _Fergus_ , were you planning to tell me, then?”

“I was going to do that just as soon as we got out of there! … See, the point is, we don’t need to be _in_ the Purgatory when we do the ritual – all we need to do is make a crack on the doorway, and call the souls to us.”

It sounded so convincing, and Castiel was inclined to believe Fergus words – he wanted to believe them, and it scare him of how much he wanted them to be true – but he knew that Fergus was a salesman through to through. He knew how to use his words – after all, he had used them to persuade people to sell their immortal souls into Hell. This was just the demon doing what he was the best of – making Castiel to buy his assurances.

“Look, I know you don’t believe me – and I can’t really blame you, _I_ wouldn’t believe myself if I was in your shorts – but can we maybe have this conversation after we’ve gotten our job done and got out of here?!”

Castiel, while still suspicious, had no desire to get trapped into the Purgatory, and as Fergus once again offered the chalice, he took it and held it beneath the chains while Fergus slowly drop one single drop of poison to the chain. First, the drop just stood there, but then chain beneath it started to ooze out bad-smelling steam and as they watched, the droplet started to eat its way through the chain.

“Be ready to catch it! If it hits the ground, we’ve no idea how deep it’ll go!”

Once the droplet had eaten its way all the way through, Castiel captured it in the chaice, and looked at Fergus. “What do we do next?”

“Depends on the big guy. Oy, Fenrir! One loop of the chain is broken. You think that’s enough for you to shrug them off?”

The enormous wolf moved around, trying its chains for the first time who knows how long time. Then it let out single most pitiful whine either of them had ever heard; most be because you won’t expect that kind of noise from such a huge beast.

“It’s all fine”, Fergus assure, with the same tone Castiel had heard him using while talking to his hounds, “we keep breaking more till they fall off, and then we’ll see what we can do to that sword in your mouth.”

They walked little past of Fenrir’ shoulders, and repeated the same thing, then again moving further, breaking loops as they went. Soon Fenrir was able to move it front paws, then stretch its shoulders; once they broke the chains that run over its pelvis, Fenrir was finally free enough to raise its whole body from the ground and shake of the rest of its bindings. Only thing that now hold it was the sword, and Castiel wondered if that would be the trickiest thing to get through.

They poured the poison from the chalice pack to the bottle and walked back where Fenrir head was, and Castiel was little taken aback by the sheer gratefulness in its eyes. Fergus just patted its snout, or as close as he could reach it. “Nasty things, say no more… Well, only one thing left; I hope you’ll allow as come to stand inside your mouth? And please, do not swallow…”

Fenrir answered by leisure wave of its tail, which could have easily thrown down a house or a little forest.

“I take that as yes”, Fergus concluded and climbed in the beast mouth, making face as his shoes got slobber in them. “I’m so throwing these away”, he muttered.

Castiel went after him, noticing that each of Fenrir’ teeth were longer than him. _Are we really going to do this? It seems docile enough now but afterwards…_

“We have no time for having second thoughts, Castiel! Come here, we need to cut this thing off!” Fergus already had his knife in the hand and he was using it as a file against the blade of the sword. “Come on, we only have a five and half hours left, and we need at least three of those to walk back!”

It was sweaty job; Fergus used his demon powers to make the sword’s blade hot, which made it easier to cut, but it also made it easy from them to burn themselves.

“Can’t we use that poison for this?” Castiel asked.

“Do you want to melt his jaw off?” Fergus grunted back, and neither of them wasted any more breath for talking.

Finally they cut through.

Castiel and Fergus quickly climbed out. “Raise your head slowly”, Fergus said to the wolf. “The sword is broken, but it still runs through you jaw – And try to not drop the hilt on us!”

Fenrir lifted its huge head from the ground, and spit the hilt out of its mouth; it moved its jaws, stretched its long body and only then looked at them; its eyes were feral, but intelligence, and only then did Castiel truly understand that the beast in front of them was _no animal_.

Fenrir started to shrink; they could hear its bones crackling as they moved into new places. Fur vanished, snout shrank down in its head and formed face, limbs got longer and fingers appeared.

Then there stood a man in front of them. He was short, not longer than Fergus, but despite how thin he was, there were strong muscles in his arms, legs and stomach. He didn’t seem to feel any shame of standing naked in front of two beings he’d only just met; the eyes that scrutinized them were cool and full of pride, as was his stand. There was still something feral left on his face, the air of a top predator, which probably would cause mere mortal to cover and whine.

They weren’t mere mortals, yet Castiel still felt himself to prepare either to battle or run.

The man who was the wolf smiled, and it was wolf’s smile, full of sharp teeth. “I know you now”, he said, and it took while before Castiel realized that he was talking to Fergus. “You’ve got my brothers smell on you.”

Fergus seemed to be just as surprised as Castiel. “Your – oh. _Oh._ ” The demon’s eyes went as wide as saucers, and he looked like a kid who had just understood how one plus one made two. “Oh.”

Castiel looked at the demon questioning, but for once, he seemed unable to talk coherently, so he turned back towards – well, Fenrir. “Do you want to borrow my coat?” he offered.

Fenrir shrugged. “If it makes you feel better.”

Meanwhile, Fergus seemed to gather his bearings. “Feathers, we have only two and half hours to get back to our starting point!”

“Be at ease”, Fenrir told him, as he veiled his nakedness in Castiel’s coat. “I can promise that we’ll travel faster now that I’m with you. No creature here will take a stand against me.”

“Well, that’s very nice of you, but we still better get going since Castiel and I aren’t on our top shape right now… and neither are you, I suppose.”

Fenrir shrugged again. “Very well, let us go.”

As Fenrir had promised, their journey took less time than it had last time. Castiel could still sense other monsters nearby, even see them from the corner of his eye, but they never advanced any closer than that.

“Werewolves leave us alone, since they hold great admiration towards me”, Fenrir said, “and the others shy away, since they know that I have no love towards their kind.”

Finally they arrived to the point where the Reaper had left them, and sat down to wait.

Castiel’s mind was like a nest full of wasps; part of him was ready to trust in Fergus and wait till he was ready for the ritual – but the other part…

_How can I have become so trustful towards the demon? He’s only making sure to achieve his own ends, and uses me as his sidekick to do that… That’s what demons do, and he’s no different than the rest of them._

_And yet… he has his own, although twisted, moral code, and he follows it –more than that, he makes sure that his subordinates do the same._

_But he can also twist he’s morals; after all, he did trick Bobby to sell him his soul as a temporary deal and then refuse to gave it back just because of formalities._

_Yes, yes, but…_

But he enjoyed Fergus’ company. It had been so long since he had felt that kind of companionship towards anyone – Dean could, perhaps, be a exception, but he would always be first Sam’s brother, then a hunter, and only then Castiel’s friend.

_Why does knowing that hurt so much…?_

He had already burned all his bridges with the Winchesters; if he now turned against Fergus, it would mark the end of that, too.

_But then I would have Heaven…_

“It seems our drive has arrived”, Fergus said suddenly, and Castiel lifted his head to see disturbance in the air just a moment before the Reaper appeared.

“Mister Crowley… I – I see you found, um, who you were looking for…” the Reaper stammered, looking at Fenrir with wide, frightened eyes.

“Yes, yes, no time for niceties – I want out there, and to shower. No, make that bath; I’ll take long, relaxing bath and kill every demon stupid enough to interrupt me!”

“I, ah, I see… If you now would join your hands…?”

They did so; Castiel thought only a moment before taking the Reapers hand and joining his other hand with Fenrir; Fergus seemed surprised by that but didn’t say anything as he, too, took the Reaper’s and Fenrir’ hand, completing their circle.

The world started once again disappear around them; but this time, Castiel didn’t pay any attention, since he was chanting with a very low voice, feeling how the marks that he had beforehand painted into his chest started to glow…

Too late, Fergus realized what was happening; his eyes widened almost comically, and Castiel could hear his shouting, “Castiel, wait, no!”, but he hardly paid any attention, since right now, all he could feel was something _entering_ …

… And then, all they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> Gleipnir was only chain strong enough to hold Fenrir, and the dwarves made it out of the sound of a cat's footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish and the spittle of a bird. It was as thin as a silken ribbon, yet stronger than any iron chain.
> 
> Eitr is a mythical substance in Norse mythology. This liquid is the origin of all living things: the first giant Ymir was conceived from eitr. The substance is supposed to be very poisonous and is also produced by Jörmungandr (the Midgard serpent) and other serpents; in Scandinavian folklore, it’s used as a synonym for snake’s poison.
> 
> In mythology, Fenrir was bound of the boulder called Gjöll. I decided to use valley (since otherwise he could be seen from far, and Castiel and Fergus would need to climb rather hide to get to him), but since Gjöll is also a name of the river that separates the world of the living from underworld, and Castiel and Fergus need to follow river to find Fergus, I think that that’s enough of a connection.
> 
> I couldn’t find the name of the sword that was placed in Fenrir jaws, so maybe it was never given one…
> 
> Also, if you're thinking what humanized Fenrir looks like in my story, seek no further than Levi from Attack on Titan :)


	15. Of Betrayal and Guardian Dogs - Er, Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Godstiel makes his appearance, and Fenrir may be able to help to fix something that's badly broken.

Dean had felt betrayed before – in his career, it was more like granted. Yet, he could only recommend two times that had hurt as much Castiel's deed; and those two had both been committed by  _his own brother_.

Sam.

Dean mentally cursed his current inability to move as he peeked his brother from the corner of his eye. Sam layed flat on his stomach, mostly like Dean did, but there was terror in his unfocussed eyes that had nothing to do with his paralyzed body. Whatever Sam was seeing was hurting him, and Dean could do nothing to help.

_Damnit, Cas, how could you?! I trusted you! We were friends, weren't we? Or was it really that insignificant to you…?_

Dean wanted to scream, wanted to punch his fists against floor till they bleed, if only that would dim the pain he felt inside himself. He wanted to hurt Castiel, wanted to kill him…!

He could admit that Castiel had have a shitty year. While Dean had been busy playing home with Lisa, and Sam had been on run with their grandfather, Castiel had been fighting in a civil war. He had probably felt abandoned and desperate – desperate enough to start plotting with Crowley, of all beings! – but that was just an explanation, not an excuse!

It wasn't as if Dean weren't man enough to confess that he had done plenty of shitty things in his life; he and Sam were pro for causing messes to all those unlucky enough to get too close of them. They had released Lucifer, made Bobby loose his legs, caused death of many of their friends… Dean had even condemned his own half-brother into the Cage without second thought.  _But Castiel should be more than that! He should be better…_

Dean clenched his teeth and realized that he could use his jaws again, even if his tongue still remained unmovable. So, the effect of the powder was starting to wear off, just like Crowley had promised.  _And aren't it just grand that a demon's word is more trustworthy than an angel's_ , Dean pondered darkly.

If only he could pin this all to Crowley…! That would make it so much easier; Crowley was a demon, he Dean was  _supposed_  to hate, unlike Castiel, who had a mournful puppy-eyes and who tilted his head like a bird whenever he didn't quite understand something… It would be so easy to think that he'd just been coerced into this by the demon. But Dean knew better than that: Castiel wasn't stupid, he wouldn't let Crowley to talk him into anything that he didn't want to participate.

From his other side, Dean heard mumbling, and grinned as he realized that Bobby had got his tongue into working; not very well, since Dean couldn't understand anything that the old hunter was saying, but he guessed that it was something totally improper.

Dean hoped that he could turn his head to look at him, but all he could do was just wait till his tongue felt alive enough to form syllables. Finally, it felt like he could try speaking.

"Aah yoo ohey?" he mumbled, hoping that Bobby both heard and understood him.

"Yeeh", came answer, and Dean sighed for relief. "Yooh hoo?"

"Im hine", Dean said. "Hams oufh."  _Out of his mind_ , he thought, but decided that maybe it was best to let Bobby drawn his own idea of that.

It was enough for a file, and they both fell in silence. Now, they could only wait…

* * *

Dean hated waiting.

"How long it takes, huh? When are they back?" he kept asking from the Reaper, who sat not far of them, but the man just kept reading on his magazine.  _That's best to be good porno…_

"Leave it, Dean; he's not talking. At least, we can now talk and move our heads and upper bodies a bit", Bobby reasoned.

"How can you be so calm?! We're paralyzed!"

"I kinda know that idjit", Bobby growled out, "and this is not a feeling that I anticipated to feel again. But right now, loosing our nerves aren't going to help us at all."

Dean could grudgingly admit that the old hunter was right, yet it didn't help at all to cool him down. "And what if Crowley decides to kill us as soon as they return?"

"Even still, getting angry won't help this spell to wear of any quicker… Besides, I doubt that; if he wanted to kill us, he'd killed us, not that used that freaky powder to slow us down. Damn, if only I got him to tell me the recipe…"

"You would use this?!"

"Could be helpful, on hunt… Is Sam still out of the world?"

Dean glanced towards his brother. "No changes; I doubt that he even knows we're here."

"It'll be okay, Dean."

Dean laughed bitterly. "How? How can this ever be okay, again?"

To that, Bobby didn't answer anything.

* * *

He had no idea how long it had been; at one point, Dean most have been dreaming, since Sam's screams woke him up. He sounded like a tortured man, and it ripped Dean's heart apart to see his brother in such of pain and not being able to even help him.

"Sam? Sammy, knock it out! You're not in the Cage anymore, you're here, with us… You're safe, Sammy!"

No response. The screams continued little longer, before subduing into whimpers. Then, it was silent again.

_Cas, you better come back and fix him up…_

…  _And then, I'm going to kill you._

* * *

_Why did you do this to us? Is it because I wasn't there when you needed me? Is this some sort of revenge…?_

_No… You're not that kind of an angel._

_Were you really this desperate? Then why didn't you tell me – tell us? Even when I was living with Lisa and Benny, you knew I would had come to your aid… didn't you? Or did you thought that I'd washed my hands clean of you?_

… _Well, maybe I thought I was, but… I would had helped you, man._

_Castiel…_

_Cas, when did we all became this messed up?_

* * *

Dean was staring a cockroach as it walked past his hand, when sudden movement caught his eyes.

The reaper had put his magazine away and stood up, stretching his muscles. "It's time", he said simply, and vanished before Dean had time to say anything.

Soon he returned… and then, the figurative hell brook loose.

"Castiel, you idiot! You went to far with that, you need to…"

"I don't  _need_  to do anything you say, demon", Castiel interrupted coldly. "I have everything under control; your advices are no longer needed."

_This can't be Castiel_ , Dean thought vehemently.  _Not this cold, uncaring being. It's some stupid thick that Crowley's pulled on us. The real Castiel must be still there, on the Purgatory…_

Yet no matter how much he wanted, he couldn't make himself to believe that.

"Now on, I make the rules. You'll only get the souls that I let you have, and no more. No deal, no possessions, nothing."

Crowley was seemingly fuming. "Making me your office-boy? Well, someone's really feeling over-the-top, today…"

Castiel's eyes glowed. "Don't play coy with me, demon! I've grow tired of your games. You never had even a slightest intention to share the souls from purgatory with me, had things gone to your design… or did you, Crowley?"

"Well…  _maybe_  not as many as I've taken to myself… But I would had gave you enough to win your war! In… in Aziraphale's name, that much at least it's true!"

Castiel's mouth quirked, but it wasn't a very pleasant smile. "And just because of Aziraphale, I'll grant you this change to continue living your abnormal life… At least, till he decides that he no longer wants to  _associate_  himself with the  _kinds of you._ "

"Oh, that hurt!" Crowley muttered. Surprisingly, it really seemed like it had; but that, of course, had to be an act, Crowley didn't have enough feelings to get them hurt…

"Enough of this", Castiel said. "I've war to win and peace to return… both in Heaven and Earth…"

He spread his arms, and Dean could see his wings, formed from light… but he had no time to get impressed with that. "Hey! What about Sam? Are you going to do anything to fix your misgivings? Or have you already forgotten your old friends and comrades?!"

Castiel turned to look at him, but his gaze was eerie on its lack of any feelings or care. Even demons had more life in their eyes, they at least show glee and self-satisfaction, even if those were only malicious delights.

But Castiel…

Castiel looked at them, his friends, and seemingly felt  _nothing_.

"You turned against me; why should I help you, now?"

Dean felt like boiling from inside out. "You did this to him! Now, fix him!"

But Castiel said, "No", and then…

… He was gone.

Dean's world was breaking into pieces, and all of them were sharp and cutting deep.  _No._  With only one word, Castiel had doomed Sammy into his madness, getting tormented by his memories from the Cage without any release than… No,  _that one_ Dean couldn't even think about.

Crowley wasn't looking any happier, but Dean couldn't in his current state get any satisfaction even from that.

"As interesting as this all is", said the man that Dean hadn't so far paid any attention but noticing that he was wearing Castiel's coat and nothing else, at it seemed, "if this was it, I might feel inclined to take my departure."

"Yeah, me too", Crowley growled.

"So, you're going to leave, just like that?" Bobby suddenly raised his voice. "Not taking any responsibility, are you…  _your highness?_ "

Crowley turned to glare at him. "And what are you meaning with that, exactly, hmmm? Is it somehow my fault that  _your angel_  goes into rampage?"

"Cry a river, won't you? It's not like your all innocent party in this!"

"Well, I'm a demon, what else can you except? So I plot; that's kind of my job! And Castiel made his own decisions, it's not like I need to clean up his messes!"

Bobby looked the demon into eyes, and said with very firm tone, "No; but you said that Castiel would aid Sam back to his "previous,  _questionable_  sanity"… your words, not mine… And by saying that, you at the same time took responsibility of him doing that. So, as he left…"

"…Would mean that I either help you or it would seem like I'd eaten my word", Crowley finished. He frowned at them, before a smile formed its way on his lips; the way he looked at Bobby was almost… admiring. "You really know how to play this, don't you… Mr. Singer?"

Bobby shrugged, as best as his could while still laying on the ground. "You almost get to keep my soul because of  _formalities_ ; I took time to prepare in similar situations, after that."

"Remarkable… Your way too good for the company you keep, love", Crowley leered, and as Bobby went all red, he turned to look the unknown man. "I know you owe nothing to me, but I would greatly appreciate if you could share some of your knowledge with me."

The man looked at them; his predatory eyes flew past Bobby and Dean and stopped to Sam. "What ails him?"

Crowley shrugged. "Shortly speaking, his soul spent some quality time in Lucifer's company, and the trauma caused by that now haunts him."

The man nodded. "I see; and luckily to you, I also know how to… ease his mind."

"At what cost?"

The man smirked, and his little too sharp tooth peaked behind thin lips. "At this time, I'll give my help to you on free of payment. If you must, you can think of it as a favor to my…  _brother_." Then he gazed to Sam, his eyes softening a bit. "Besides, I know all too well how it feels to be trapped… and even if the chains that hold him into his memories aren't physical, they're just as real as those that chained me before you and your… friend set me free."

There was something raw in the man's voice, and the look on his face got just a little bit vulnerable as he spoke, and suddenly fragile hope raised its head inside of Dean's heart. "You can help him? You can… fix him?"

The man turned to look at him, with pity in his eyes. "Fix? Souls – and minds – aren't something you can just put together like broken china. It needs time to heal itself… it needs peace to do that. But with memories like his…? No, peace is not what he's able to feel right now. So what I'm giving to him, is something to keep his nightmares in check… something that guards his mind till he's strong enough to do it himself."

That sounded a bit suspicious. "What you mean? You're not putting anyone inside my brother's head!"

"No, Dean Winchester… What I'm giving him is no more real than those visions that haunt him; and that's why it can keep them on bay. They're… from the same realm, one would say."

Dean wasn't still quite sure, but then Bobby reached to lay his hand on his shoulder and said, "It's not like he can get a lot worse than this, Dean… And surely he'll get no better, if we don't do anything!"

So Dean nodded, while grimly deciding that if this was a fluke, nothing would stop him to hunt down all three of them – this man, Crowley and Castiel – and  _make them pay_.

"No tricks", he warned, and if it came out as a growl, well, he really didn't care about courtesy right now.

The man just smirked. "You have a wolf in your heart, Dean Winchester; now, I'm lending one to your brother, too."

Dean was about to say something to that – since what did that even mean? – when Crowley said, "I think what he's trying to express is that you have a lion's heart, squirrel."

"Well, why didn't he just say that then?" Dean asked, but Crowley just raised his finger over his lips and nodded towards Sam; the man had kneeled before him and held his face between his hands – Dean noted that his nails were more like  _claws_  – and talked with low, even voice, using language that Dean couldn't quite recognize. He looked questioningly at Bobby.

"Sounds like Norwegian", Bobby whispered, "but it has a very strange dialect… or very  _old_."

Dean turned back to Sam and could see that his eyes were now focused; first they stared at the man holding his face with fear, then with surprise, and finally, with peaceful gleam. His hand latched on man's arm, not pushing it or holding it down, but squeezing as if saying, "thank you"… and then, he close his eyes and fell asleep, his breaths deep and even, face peaceful at last.

The man gently lowered his head on the floor before standing up. "I've done what I can; he still remembers everything that he's gone through, but those memories no longer has a hold over his mind."

"So… he'll get better, now?" Dean's voice had almost pleading tone in it.

"He now has a change to that", the man answered, before turning back towards Crowley. "Now we say our goodbyes."

"Pleasant travel to you, wherever are you going", Crowley quickly answered and even bowed a bit – seriously, who the  _heck_  was this guy?

The man smirked. "I think I shall pay little visit to my brother before leaving this realm; shall a pass your greetings, too?"

"Yes; please be kind and tell him that we have some… words… to change in a near future", Crowley answered, and there was something petulant in the way he did that. Both Dean and bobby raised their eyebrows for that.

The man barked of laugh. "I will", he promised; and then (Dean had hard time to believe his eyes), he reached out his hand and ruffled the demons hair a bit. "Take care, young one", he said, and walked to the door.

And suddenly there were no longer man, but a wolf, bigger than any wolf had any right to be, and its hulking form filled the doorway. Then it howled, its call full off freedom and sheer delight of being alive…

And then, it was gone.

They turned towards Crowley with incredulous looks on their faces, but the demon only, smirked, shrugged and said, "That was Fenrisulfr for you, folks."


	16. Of Fenrir (the True Fear)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenrir helps Sam to get rid of his unwanted guest.

_This is not real. I'm not in the Cage anymore. I got out. This isn't real! I'm free!_

"You'll never be free of me."

Lucifer smiles at him, face like picture of sympathy, all but his eyes; his eyes are gleaming with satisfaction and sick pleasure.

"No! You're not real!" Sam denies, and the devil laughs.

"Oh, Sammy-boy, you hurt my feelings! Don't I look real enough for you?"

Sam shakes his head, trying to get as far from grinning Lucifer as he can; but they are in the little room, in his study in the house he once lived with Jessica before Dean came in and with him all this madness.

 _Dean_ , he thinks.  _Dean brought me back. He got the Death to bring me back. This is all illusion, I'm not in the Cage anymore, it's not HIM who stands before me…_

Lucifer lays one hand over Sam's cheek; his touch is gentle like lovers, before he curls his fingers like claws and sinks his nails into Sam's flesh.

Sam screams and tumbles backwards; Lucifer grabs his hair and forces Sam to look at him.

"Do not ignore me!" the Devil shouts, and Sam knows that more pain is soon coming…

But it doesn't. Since right then, someone growls, and then Lucifer is dragged away of him.

It's a wolf. A huge wolf, that can at the same both be higher than any mountain Sam has ever seen, and yet somehow still manages to fit inside the room they're standing at with no problem; Sam's brains decide to not think of that dilemma. It fur has the scent of wilderness, mixed with the smoke of faraway campfires and blood; rivers of it. Most of all, the wolf gives Sam sense of something ancient, something that has existed as long as the time itself.

Lucifer is enraged, but Sam sees, that he's also unsure; he's been thrown out of balance, and at the first time, he's not ruling the situation.

"You! What are you doing here?"

The wolf doesn't answer. Still growling, it lays down on the floor, separating Sam and Lucifer from one another. Sam doesn't dare to move; right now, the wolf doesn't seem to be threat to him, but only an idiot would be relaxed while standing in the same room with it…!

"You have no power here!" Lucifer continues shouting, even angrier now because he receives no response. "He's mine! All his fears and screams and nightmares belong to me!"

The wolf huffs, clearly amused now. And then it speaks.

It's not  _really_  speaking; at least Sam's brains make their best to tell him that the growling voice can't come from wolf's mouth, since it's not possible for animal to form words like that. But Sam can hear the words, as well as the diminishing tone they're delivered with.

"Yours? And who are you to make such demands? Only a shadow of a Judaism-Christian creature, born from humankinds fear towards the unknown that waits them beyond their graves?"

Lucifer seethes, and somehow he now looks far less threatening than before; Sam wouldn't be surprised if he soon started to stump his foot of irritation.

The wolf continues, "I, on the other hand… I'm the one who first  _taught_  the humankind to  _fear_ ; who made them glance behind their backs and put up little campfires to shoe the dark away. I'm in every howl of a wolf, in every roar of a tiger, in every laugh of a hyena; I'm the one that looks them in the eyes of a stranger, and I'm the one who peaks out of their own. I'm the one that makes them lock their doors at night and by guns to protect their family and property. I'm their most basic fear, older than they're as a species. Fear of the dark, of the unknown… fear of the stranger… fear of the BEAST!" the wolf stood up, standing above Lucifer who seemed to cover before it, and growled against his face, "I'm Fenrisulfr, son of Loke; I was born from chaos, and nightmares, and darkness; I'm Fenrir, who is fear and destruction and death, and I sent you away!"

And Lucifer goes, hurriedly, stumbling out of the room figurative tail between his legs.

Once alone, the wolf lays back down and says, "You should sleep now, young one; sleep, and then go back to your brother, since he misses you dearly as brothers do while they're separated."

"How… how can I, with you here?" Sam asks, covering a bit as wolf turns its huge head to look at him with one of its gleaming, golden eyes. "How can I know you won't attack me while I rest?"

The wolf huffs, and says, "I'm Fenrisulfr; and while I taught your kind how to fear, I also taught you how to fight your fears. How to use fire to scare away group of lions; how to use sharp stick of wood to hunt down a leopard; how to make friends with young wolves till one day their spawn will protect you from their own kind for a scarps of meat." If wolf can do fond, then this one truly does. "I'm a destroyer, but I'm also a soldier. A hunter. You, young one, are my pack… And the pack protects its own."

Sam starts to relax; not so much because of the words, but because of the soothing tone they are delivered. He sits down on his chair (how has he missed this chair!) and mutters, "Maybe I could sit here for a while… but I don't think I'll be able… to sleep…" he yawns.

The wolf maybe smiles, or not; Sam finds it hard to say. "As you wish, young one; to pass time, maybe I could tell you a story? I ask you to go easy with me, its been hundreds,  _thousands_  of years since I last time had a company."

"Mmuhuh", Sam mutters, his head already nodding as sleep starts to take its tool over his mind.

The wolf starts speaking, "Once there was two brothers, one as large as a mountain, other as long as a river. They lived near their father, and while they had other siblings, they hardly ever met them. One day, the younger brother, he who was as large as a mountain, asked, "Should we go look our eldest brother, he who lives at the citadel and run faster as the wind that blows in the mountaintops?" And the elder sibling said, "Our father has asked us to not come in the citadel, for he fears that our size could cause us harm there." But the younger insisted, and finally the elder yielded, after making his brother to promise that they would not do anything to cause panic…"

If the wolf continued speaking, Sam could no longer hear him; since he was already falling inside of a dream.

* * *

"..am! Sam! SAMMY!"

Sam woke up with a jolt. Dean was there, sitting before him, and hands on his shoulders implied that Dean had been shaking him.

"Wha-? Where are we-?" Sam asked, looking around. He tried to get himself rid of a dream, where a giant wolf and even larger snake went to the town and caused all kinds of havoc till man with flaming hair told them off… And was there a horse, too?

"At motel. Listen, Sam; how are you feeling?" Dean sounded worried.

"Mmmm? Oh, fine… I'm feeling fine." And it was true; he couldn't even remember when he had last time felt this relaxed.

"You sure?" Dean demanded, looking him straight to the eyes. "No more hallucination? No Lucifer looking at you over my shoulder?"

Sam shook his head. "No, the wolf scared him away… No, that was in my dream – wasn't it?"

Dean sighed, and it seemed like mountain had been lifted from his shoulders. "Good… good… Look, Sammy; the wolf was real, okay? Well, he's as real as Lucifer was, anyway – Castiel went out of bonkers, but Crowley had this guy with him who apparently was a wolf, and Bobby made them help you… It's a long ass story, so let's talk more about it, later, okay?"

Sam looked at his brother incredulously. "Crowley put  _a wolf_  inside  _my head?_ "

"No, the wolf did; and it wasn't a real wolf, it –"

"What Dean  _tries_  to say", said Bobby, who walked in the room and offered Sam a cup of coffee, "is that Fenrir, or Fenrisulfr, who is a son of Loki from norse mythology…"

"What – wait, Loki? But – I thought that Gabriel…"

Dean shrugged. "Well, either myths misunderstood something – could be his pet or something – or then he got a lot more around there than we thought."

"… Can I continue? Idjits. As I was saying, Fenrir made an image of himself inside your mind so that it could scare of the image of Lucifer that you already had there; he promised that it would wear off once it's no longer needed."

"… And you're  _okay_  with that?"

Bobby shrugged. "We were little out of options there, Sam; and isn't this still better than listen to Lucifer  _sweet-talking_  with you all the time?"

"Well… yeas, of course, but –"

Bobby laid his hand over Sam's shoulder, squeezing it firmly. "Good. We can deal with every problems this causes once – and if – they approach. Right now, we have enough worries already…"

Sam looked between them. "What? Did we fail to stop them? How powerful has Crowley become?"

Dean rubbed his neck. "As wonderful as it would be to blame this all on Crowley, well – this time, things are going to be a bit more trickier than that. You – did you hear what I said about Castiel out of bonkers, earlier? Well, that may have been me  _underestimating_  the situation…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll should put up something to explain Fenrir and his siblins, and how they can be both Loke's children and still older than humankind... In my lore, they're kinda like Endless in Neil Gaiman's Sandman series: Loke is Chaos (wildfire), Ferir is Fear (beast), Jörmungandr/Jormungand/Jorgumand is Eternity (snake), and Hel is Underworld (deceased). There's also this little tidbit about Jormungand's (I'll go with that for now) current form, and I'll explain it once we come to that.


	17. Of Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel learns that being God isn't easy, and before end, makes another realization, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so cruel...  
> By the way, the first chapter of my another story, The Unholy Family, happens duiring this chapter.

_(The voices were too much._

_There had been so many of them: angry voices, demanding him to let them go; scared voices, screaming and pegging and crying for mercy; voices that called their loved ones and made threats for him or both. And then were those other ones; oily, sneaky voices, that spoke about power and glory, if only he listened them and did as they wanted…_

_It was too much, he couldn't take it anymore…!_

_It had all just seemed so simply…)_

* * *

At first, it was been simply; defeat Rafael, defeat her army, pull our forces back together and heal Heaven, bring it back to its ancient glory.

But first, the retribution was needed; it came in the form of punishment.

Giving death sentence to Rafael wasn't really surprise to anyone. With her army, too, it may have seen coming.

_(But all those others…?)_

"We cannot afford any mutiny!"

Was it really his voice which said that?

The brothers who had stood his side but lost their fate before the end…

Those who hadn't choose sides at all…

_(All dead? At his hand?)_

"If you're not at my side, you're against me."

He was God; he would make the world better.

_(Even if there's no-one left to see it?)_

* * *

The church had been just start.

The priest who talk lies in his name – hypocrite, who criticized other while he, himself, was far from being pure…

He deserved what came to him.

Other followed him; over 200 leaders, all over the world, leading their flocks astray from Gods truth.

They needed to be punished; people needed to see that they were wrong.

Then there were Klu Klux Klan and all their kinds, and all those New Age -people…

His mission was clear.

"I am God."

_(Am I?)_

* * *

It wasn't like he was only punishing people; he had also done much to help them. What about all those leper colonies that got shut down after he'd healed all patients?

Those who were crippled were now walking, those who were blind were seeing, those who were deaf were hearing.

_(Is that only to soothe your conscience?)_

* * *

_(They want out.)_

_(Mistake… I've made a mistake.)_

"I'm God; I make no mistakes!"

* * *

Crowley acts like he always does, looking him straight at the eyes, bantering and making innuendos that Castiel cannot wholly understand. But his voice is cold, as are his eyes, and jibs strike harder than they used to.

"What did you gave to them?"

The demon smiles; it's like edge of a knife. "What they asked for; a weapon."

Crowley knows that he can smite him with no effort.

He doesn't.

_(I can't.)_

"I need to threat to hold against my enemies."

"So you've said", Crowley says.

* * *

They rise against him.

After all he'd done for them, after all they've been through… They still dare to go against him.

They even called the Death.

He's… an insolent creature. He thinks that Castiel has "swallowed more than he can take". That he's only been settling up his own vendettas.

_(I have. I did.)_

"I'm cleaning up the messes that He left behind! One after another, selflessly."

"You, sir, are not God."

He sets the Death free, and leaves.

_(I fled.)_

* * *

They're insisting, the voices; they won't allow him even a moment's silence.

Now, there's blood everywhere.

_It-it wasn't I, I didn't, I –_

_(I did.)_

* * *

He hears Sam praying.

At first, he has no meaning to answer; how could he, after what he has done?

But he needs their help.

* * *

Death has told them how to open the door to Purgatory; the souls must be returned.

The coldness in Dean's voice hurts him more than he believed that was even possible. He knows that it's deserved; it just doesn't make it any easier to bear.

Yet when he stumbles, it's Dean's hands that hold him up. He inhales, taking in the scent; if he doesn't survive, this, at least, he can take with him: the memory of Dean's touch and scent.

* * *

He loses his consciousness, just for a moment; when he opens his eyes, they're here, looking at him with worried expressions. The relief while they help him on his feet is real, and the guilt makes him feel uneasy; he doesn't deserve that, not for them, from  _Dean_ … not after what he has done.

"I'll find a way to redeem myself to you", he says, to all of them, but he has eyes only Dean, who mutters something about taking one thing at a time as they start to half drag and half carry him outside.

And then he feels Leviathans.

He can't control his body; all he can do is just watch as they use  _his arms_  to throw his friends to other side of the room. The horror on Dean's face as the Leviathans say that he has died makes he claw the surface of his mind in wanting to scream out, "That's not true, I'm still here!"

… But nothing comes out.

* * *

They take him to the water; for what reason, he cannot comprehend. He hears footsteps behind them  _(Dean!)_  and practically begs his captors to turn around, to let him see Dean just one more time.

Of course they won't; his struggles do nothing more but humor them.

They walk him as deep as they can, and then deeper, till his head no longer stays on the surface. He thinks of Dean, his face, his voice, his scent, his touch… How it felt to hold his soul against his own, when he carried it out of Hell…

_How have I been this blind?_

He feels pain, like nothing he has felt before; like something inside of him was bursting out right through his flesh.

_Dean, I love you,_  he thinks, desperately hoping that he had had time to say it to him before –

And then he's torn apart.


	18. Of Dreaming and Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony tries to deal with his nightmares while helping Aziraphale to take care of his amnestic brother.

_This can't be real_ , Dean thought as he stared down in the waters where Castiel had just walked – had been walked to? -, unable to believe that the angel would never rise up there and say, "Hello Dean", with that exactly same tone he always used, had it been days, weeks or months since their last departure.

"I can't believe this", he voices out to Sam and Bobby, their faces also showing same expressions of disbelief and horror.

 _Castiel, you idiot,_  Dean thought bitterly,  _why didn't you listen me? You were supposed to survive, so that I could punch you on face for what you did to Sam and then things could get back to what they were – No, better; since this time, I would actually take a time to notice when you're feeling under feather._

Cas wet, bloodied coat washed on the shore. Dean picked it up and then just stood there a moment, holding it, till Bobby put his hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing it a bit before giving an encouraging pat.

"We should go, Dean; there's nothing more that we can do here. I'm sorry to say this but… he's gone. And we have the Leviathans to worry about."

_Castiel's gone._

Just what the Hell were they supposed to do now?!

* * *

Anthony J. Crowley woke up in his expensively styled apartment, in cold sweat and breathing harshly (since sometimes his body forgot that it didn't need to work like human's, especially when he was scared, or nervous, or stressed).

He got out of bed and went to his bathroom, splashing water to his face to get rid of the last remains of his dream, where dark, could waters had surrounded him and he had screamed and called yet no-one had answered to his pleads.

Nightmares had been constant for a some time, ever since he had gotten a surprise visit from his long lost relative and soon after Fergus had appeared, asking some questions that Anthony had hoped that he would never need to answer. It wasn't even that his son had been mad – actually, he'd acted very understanding and mature, once he had been clear that it was mostly due the bad memories that certain truths had never been voiced duiring their time together – but it had brought back memories, and those memories now haunted him in the form of nightmares.

Strictly speaking, nightmares shouldn't have been such a big deal, since Anthony could have easily skip sleeping –his body didn't actually  _require_  rest – but after so many years, daily sleeping periods had became an enjoyed habit, and losing them made him a bit  _cranky_ , as Aziraphale put it.

Speaking of Aziraphale… Since it was no use to try and fall asleep again – it was 5.30AM, already – Anthony decided that he should go and pay a little visit to the angel; maybe they could have some breakfast together.

After short drive to Soho, Anthony parked his car (there was always place for him, even during busiest hours), and crossed the street, only to stop short when he noticed an unconscious, naked body lying face down on the bookstore's porch.

Closer look provided that this wasn't (thank Someone!) Aziraphale, as he has thought for one panicked moment, but it was indeed someone he knew: Castiel, Aziraphale's younger brother, who had lately became part of their rag-tag family unit. And now that he thought about it, this wasn't even first time he had seen the angel in similar situation, although last time, he had still been clothed.

"What on Earth have you done this time?" Anthony groaned. He reached down to feel the pulse from the angel's neck, and was happy to found one: he was alive, at least, and seemed unharmed, even though he hadn't yet woken up. Anthony shrugged his own jacket off of his shoulders and tugged it around Castiel's body.

"Trying to give me heart-attack, aren't you?" he mumbled. "No matter; now just wait here while I go and get your brother to help me to carry you inside…"

* * *

They managed to get Castiel into same room where they had nursed him last time he'd been out-of-the-world. Aziraphale was immensely worried, and tried to make everything as comfortable as possible for his unconscious brother.

"Should I open the curtains…? No, that would be too much light; I will just open the blinds and leave curtains as they are… And should window be open or closed? Fresh air could be fine, but what about the pollution… and there could still be mosquitos, in this time of year… Those are very unpleasant bedfellows, or so I've heard… What do you think, dear?"

"About mosquitos or windows?" Antony asked while smiling fondly at his friend. "Az, Castiel will be fine; you don't need to go all mother-hen over him."

Aziraphale worried his lip between his teeth. "Are you sure? He looks so… helpless."

"He may look like a little kitten now, but you know that he's a tough guy; he'll pull it through."

"You're probably right… Have you any idea what could have happened to him? I know that he was up to something big, but he seemed so secretive about it so I didn't ask…"

Anthony shrugged. "I'm not privy to Heaven's business, either… But we could probably ask Fergus if he knows something. He and Castiel has been thick as thieves, lately."

Aziraphale smiled. "That's true. I know that most of my brethren would be shocked and upset by that short of friendship, but… I'm just happy to see our legacy going on."

"I know what you mean."

Aziraphale hesitated a moment before asking, "Speaking of Fergus, how has he taken, er… current revelations?"

"He's been… surprisingly understanding. Well, maybe it shouldn't be so surprising, really – he knows that there are memories that one would rather leave forgotten."

"I know it pains you, but… it's still his history, too. He has right to know."

"I know", Anthony mumbled. For a moment, he thought that maybe he could tell Aziraphale about his nightmares – since there was no way he could tell Fergus about them; poor boy would just blame himself for bringing back bad memories -, but Aziraphale was already worrying about his baby-brother. He didn't need Anthony's sleeping problems to add into his burdens.

"Let's grab some breakfast, shall we?" the demon said instead. "And then I could call to my son and ask if he has any idea of what mess Castiel has gotten himself this time…"

* * *

To say that Fergus was pissed would have been belittling; he was almost boiling with rage. From between all name-callings (Fergus used a lot wordings like "two-faced bastard", "back-stabbing thief", and "sneaky little skunk", although "Brutus" and "Judas" too came up repeatedly, as well as many other terms that his father didn't dare to recall), Anthony managed to patch up the story that filled him with dread, and which he now repeated to Aziraphale.

"As you know, my son and Castiel made a little trip to the Purgatory few weeks ago; now it seems that they bought something with them. Castiel apparently swallowed every single soul from Purgatory to gain enough power to beat some mutiny in Heaven – it seems like complicated thing, and Fergus was sidestepping it, so I think that something big has happened there after we last checked. Now, Fergus is pissed since he had thought that they could maybe  _share_  the souls – not that that's any better idea, and I even told him that – and to top the insult, duiring his power-trip Castiel dared to treat him like a servant or something. Later your brother game to his senses and tried to return the souls, only it didn't work completely and he ended up releasing Leviathans into the world, apparently dying in the process; Fergus said that he was literally tore apart."

"Oh, Heavens… poor Castiel. Yet it surprises me how well he has, erm… recovered from his traumatic experience."

"You think he got any help from… you know?"

Aziraphale hummed. "Well, I think that our Father has gotten soft spot for him… where ever He is.

Anthony smirked. "You totally know where that "where ever" is, don't you?"

"My lips are sealed, dear… And the Leviathans…?"

"Still out there. Fergus has been in contact with that group of Hunters that Castiel was friends with, and they're trying their best to keep damages under control, but…" Anthony shook his head.

"Leviathans on the loose are something that was never supposed to happen. Not only are they vicious, they're intelligent… Has Fergus had any contact with them?"

"Once; I got the idea that their boss insulted him."

Aziraphale smiled wryly. "I hope that you forgive me if I say that it pleases me to hear that; I really don't want your son to form any kind of alliance with those monsters."

"Neither do I… So, is there anything that we could do? Maybe convince "Him" deliver some more spontaneous Deus ex Machina's and whisk Leviathans back to where they belong to?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "You know He doesn't work that way, dear. What ever comes next, it's in our hands."

"So we're done?" Anthony summed.

Aziraphale patted the demon gently on the cheek. "We're never just "done"; as long as we keep trying, good things will happen."

"…You're so lame."

"Oh, hush!"

* * *

It took a week before Castiel woke up. Anthony happened to be the one on guard at that time (Aziraphale refused to leave Castiel all alone during days; what if he woke up and was thirsty? Confused? Scared?), and was reading to pass time when noise made him raise his head and met Castiel's sky-blue gaze. The angel seemed confused, like he had hard time to understand where he was.

"Hey", he said, not really sure how to act to not spook the other, "I see you woke up. Thirsty?" As Castiel just stared at him, he smiled little nervously. "Yeah. I just… I'll go and fetch your brother…"

"My… brother?" Castiel rasped, and something in his tone made Anthony cringe.  _This is no good…_

"Yes, your brother. You know… blonde, little chubby? Wears tartan?" There was no recognition in Castiel's eyes. "Owns a bookstore – not that he ever sells anything?"

Castiel shook his head. "I… I'm sorry, I…"

Anthony sighed. "It's okay, buddy… We'll work this out."

_Not good at all._

* * *

Another week went till Aziraphale decided that Castiel was strong enough to move around in the house, and even then he wasn't allowed to go outside alone, not even the yard. Castiel consented to this all, showing no distrust towards the person in whose house he had woken up and who supposedly was his brother. The younger angel was way too trusting, and Anthony didn't want to even think about what could have happened if he had ended up in someone else's porch.

They had decided to proceed slowly, especially in what came to the whole  _being angel_  -deal, and had so far covered only that Castiel came from very religious family and that many of them had a knack for miracles. Castiel accepted that easily enough.

Aziraphale read out all the books of amnesia that he could find and went even so far that consulted internet about the situation. When it came clear that hobbies had improving effect to the most of patient, he decided that Castiel needed one.

Too bad he decided that beekeeping was the best choice of hobby he could come up with…

"In Soho? Are you mad?" Anthony asked. He had came to visit like every other day, only to see that there were three beehives in Aziraphale's balcony.

"Why? I think it's a splendid idea. Castiel gets fresh air, company of fluffy animals…"

"Bees aren't fluffy…"

"… They are a bit… And I get honey to my tea!"

Anthony rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop himself smirking. "I should have guessed that… Angel, you've become quite a cunning creature, aren't you?"

Aziraphale huffed as if offended by the comment, but Anthony could see proud little smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

* * *

Fergus came to visit Castiel once, full of rage and ready to roast his ears with it. When Castiel had just looked at him with his kind, sorrowful eyes and offered him a can of honey (how did those little beast get so much made in such a short time? And where did they even found flowers, for Someone's sake!?) for any pains he may had caused, Fergus had stared at him almost scared look on his face before he just turned around and left almost as soon as came in.

After that, Fergus made point to not visit Aziraphale's house while Castiel still lodged there, and because Anthony's apartment had never been much of home but more like place for him to sleep and keep his plants, they arranged meetings all over the city, usually ending up into restaurants.

Anthony was little worried of his son denying to talk about anything even slightly related to Castiel. Fergus didn't usually be silent about his grudges: "prompt revenge, and then move forward" was more of his style. Of course Anthony was happy that he hadn't tried to kill the angel or even hurt him, but… It just didn't feel like a healthy way to handle his anger.

Aziraphale, of course, refused to see the problem. "They will set it right, dear", he reassured. "Fergus feels betrayed, and he has right to be so; we both know that he doesn't trust easily, but he was ready to trust in Castiel – mostly because he saw him harmless, I would think. But I'm sure that once Castiel's back to normal, and Fergus sees how remorseful he is about that whole mess, they will make it up and be friends again."

Anthony decided to not point out that Fergus wasn't very good at all that "forgive and forget" -business.

But not so bad, if not something good, too: Anthony was delighted to notice of how fondly his son was talking about this elder hunter, Bobby Singer. It was clear that Fergus had took shine to him, and once he met the man in flesh (or in mind), he could see why: man was like a grumpy old bear (which would make him fun to tease), but he was also resourceful and had an intelligent mind that Anthony could clearly see his son approving… that, and he knew that Fergus was little weak to men with a beard. Above all that, man was very kind-hearted (though he tried to hide it, with little succeed), and people usually take appeal of the qualities that they themselves lack in other people… or that's the conclusion he had gotten during all these years of observing humankind.

* * *

Some more time passed, and Castiel's memories begin to return – in the worst possible way.

Antony had just waken up from another nightmare, and was now pondering if he should go downstairs to spent some time with Aziraphale – the angel never understood the appeal of sleeping – when a noise coming from Castiel's room got his attention. Sounded like the younger angel was taking to someone, yet he should be alone and resting at this time of night (as Castiel still thought that he was just ordinary – yet spiritually gifted – human, his body reacted to this by obeying basic human needs, like sleeping and eating). Besides, Castiel's voice had sounded pleading and almost… terrified.

Worried, Anthony sneaked in the angel's room, only to find him trashing around on his bed, skin glistering with sweat and pained frown on his face.

Anthony had no much knowledge of how one should usually act in this situation – did people really die on heart attack or something if they were woken up during nightmare? Or was that just sleepwalking? – but he knew very well how horrible nightmares could get, so he took the glass of water from the nightstand and plashed is contents on Castiel's face.

The angel jumped up immediately, eyes wide and breath hiving.

"Hey", Anthony said nervously, "…you okay? Because that sounded like a one intense nightmare you had there."

Castiel just stared at him, tears in his eyes and looking like a scared, sad (and wet) puppy. He was so pathetic sight, that it almost made Anthony to sit down and give him a hug (but just "almost". He wasn't Aziraphale – well,  _neither_  of them was). "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked instead. Castiel shook his head. "…Should I call Aziraphale here?" Another headshake.

Anthony sighed. Not knowing what else to do, he sat down on chair beside Castiel's bed and reached out to ruffle his messed hair. "It's okay, kid… I understand."

Castiel tensed a bit before starting to relax. It didn't take him long to fall asleep again.

Anthony took more comfortable position and decided to stay on watch… just in case.

* * *

"Do you have a nightmares too?"

Castiel gazed into Anthony's eyes (that were hidden behind his sunglasses, which did nothing to decrease the effect), his head tilted and expression pleading.

"What?" Anthony asked, looking nervously around the kitchen and hoping that Aziraphale wouldn't suddenly come in and hear their conversation.

"Last night you said that you understand. Is that what you meant?" Castiel pushed on.

Anthony sighed. "Yeah. Well, mine are more of memories than dreams, but… yeah."

Castiel nodded. "It's okay", he said, and then, whispering, "I think that mine are memories, too."

* * *

Next night, Anthony wasn't all that surprising when Castiel knocked his bedroom's door and came in, holding his pillow against his chest. They ended up walking back to his room, Castiel laying down on his bed and Anthony again taking his previous seat.

"Could you… tell me about your nightmare?" Castiel asked nervously.

Anthony sighed. "It's… uneventful, really. I woke in the bottom of deep, dark, cold, lifeless sea. I know that I'm casted there as a punishment of something that hasn't yet happen and it's unclear if it ever does. I call my loved ones, even though I know they can't hear me or come to my rescue. I'm all alone, scared and hungry…" he shrugged. "Then I wake up… eventually."

"Your worst fear is isolation", Castiel summed up with his mournful voice. "… Did it really happen? You said it was memory."

"It did. Long, long time ago… You do realize that I'm no ordinary human, don't you?"

Castiel nodded. "Same goes to Aziraphale and me, right? We are all something else." He tilted his head, and looked at Anthony, thoughtful frown on his face. "But you're not same as us, aren't you?"

Anthony shook his head. "No, I'm not. Not at first, after all."

"Tell me?" And those puppy-dog eyes, who could say "no" to them…?

Anthony could, probably, but he decided to tell him anyway. "The sea I was cast was the sea of chaos, where all the possibilities of what could be lay till they're called aboard. I layed there… who know how long? Time has no meaning there… there, time doesn't even exist. I was lost myself, forgotten my name and those who I once hold dear… Until on day, I heard the voice…"

"What did it say?"

Anthony smirked, wistfully. "'Let there be light'." He could feel how Castiel suddenly sat more straight, but didn't really see him… His eyes were looking at the scenario of at the beginning, when the first light of the first day had touched the bottom of the sea and warmed his chilled scales. "And after that came more, a lot more… the voice kept speaking, calling a new world out of the sea of chaos… And I knew that this was my change, maybe the only I could ever have… So I use all the strength that I had left, and grabbed this new world, bit down to it to drink of the power that was used to make it. I drank, till I got heavy with it, and kept drinking, because my thirst was too great to be quenched. And finally, when I was half sick with my excessive, I quit, and let this new world carry me away with it."

Castiel was quiet, but Anthony hardly even remembered that he was there anymore, and just kept talking. "He – the voice – created many kinds of creatures; and some of them he saw unworthy and cast away (and those became all the monsters that dwell in the shadows of the world) and others, that he deemed worthy and created a home to them; it was called Heaven." Anthony couldn't help but smiling. "It was beautiful place, back then… full of light, and laugh, and music. It bought back memories of my own family, which I doubted I could ever found again… And so, I abandoned my old vessel, and using all that left-over power I had got from creating (He called it Grace), I took a form just like theirs, and went to them; and they called me brother." Something made his eyes sting, and he brushed it off with his sleeve (it wasn't  _tears_ ; he weren't crying, he was a demon,  _for Someones sake!_ ). "So… that's what happened. You know the rest; they made a Book about it all… three Books, actually. All bestsellers. One of them can be found of almost every house all over the globe…"

"Crowley."

Anthony blinked his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"You're Crowley; I remember you now", Castiel said. His voice was… same, yes, yet… different. Rougher. "Snake of Eden; friend of Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate… You two stopped an Apocalypse together."

"Well, actually, it was mostly Adam who…"

"Then I did the same… with Dean and Sam Winchester… Bobby Singer… and your son, Fergus… All my friends…" Castiel's concentrated look turned into pained one. "I betrayed them all. I released Leviathans into the world…"

Anthony patted him on the shoulder. "Hey, it's all fine… well, maybe not – but you'll find a way to redeem yourself! Damn, I such at this… What if I just fetch Aziraphale to you…?"

Castiel looked little nervous. "Is he very disappointed with me?"

"Who, Aziraphale? Nah, right now he'll just be happy that you're okay. He may, of course, give you lecture about recklessness later, but you'll just need to stand it thorough like a man…"

"But I'm not a man", Castiel pointed out, and Anthony needed to actually look at him and see that proudly devious little smile on the angels face to be sure that he had just cracked a joke.

"I say… You know what, I think that your kind may actually have a hope!" he laughed. "Now wait there, and I'll call your brother up here… He'll be so surprised…!"

Castiel smiled and leaned back against his pillows. "Yes… I would like to see Aziraphale."

* * *

"So you remember, then?" Fergus hissed with poison in his voice, looking just as threatening that anyone can while sitting in Aziraphale's kitchen and holding a fragile little teacup in one hand and a muffin in other (which would had made anyone else looked just stupid, but somehow he could pull it thorough).

"I do", Castiel admitted. "I'm sorry."

"Well, sorry doesn't really cover this, or what you say?"

Aziraphale and Anthony watched them quietly; they had decided that it wouldn't be wise to leave "children" without any supervision, but weren't going to interfere, at least as long as no-one was in danger to die.

Castiel frowned guiltily. "I know. I've caused a lot of troubles to everyone; but right now, I'm not making apologizes about Leviathans. Or what happened in Heaven. Or what I did while I – while I thought that I could be the next God. Right now, I'm… I'm just apologizing for you. For betraying you. For not being a better friend…"

"FRIEND! Take the pixie dust out of your eyes, feathers! We were never  _friends!_  I just used you to reach my goals; it just bugs me off that you went and double-crossed  _me_  before I had a change to do that to  _you!_ "

 _He's bluffing_ , Anthony wanted to point out.  _Really, he's not meaning what he says… please, Castiel, don't let him scare you off!_

It seemed that Castiel knew his son better than said son had thought. "I don't believe that that's all it was", Castiel said calmly. "But even if it was, my apology stays. You might or might not have seen me as your friend, but I did see  _myself_  as friend of yours; and at the end, I wasn't being as good friend as I thought I was."

Aziraphale squeezed Anthony's hand and gave him a teary smile; his angel was such a softie! But Anthony himself couldn't help but smile, either…

Fergus stared at Castiel, clearly thrown off balance and unsure of how he should react to that confession; Castiel met his eyes earnestly.

Finally Fergus put his teacup down and started to massage his temples, moaning of defeat. "That's not fair!" he whined. "You shouldn't be able to face your mistakes so straight-forward; you should be covering and making excuses! That way, I could at least scream at you…"

"I'm sorry", Castiel said, with straight face.

Fergus laughed dryly. "Becoming a real comedian, eh…? … Fine, fine! But don't you think that you're out of bush, yet! You can be sure that I'll find some way to revenge this, understand?"

"I wouldn't expect nothing less."

"Well, as long as that's settled… Surely you do understand that I'm not going to trust you ever again, right?" This time, Fergus voice was almost regretful.

Castiel sighed, but braised himself. "I know; 'fool me once…'"

Fergus smirked. "Well, you sure have grown a lot… Well, then; when are you planning to tell Dean and Not-Dean that you're still, miraculously, at the land of living~?"

They could all see how Castiel suddenly paled a bit.

* * *

As it turned out, that decision eventually wasn't in Castiel's hands…


	19. Of Prophets and Stone Tablets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to digest that Castiel's back, and Fergus' little too amused... before he isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the best chapter I've wrote, but I'm having a flu and I just want season 7 completed and out of my hair, so... yeah, I'm just going with this.

"You're alive."

"Yes, I am, Dean."

"But you were dead."

"I think we already established that, too."

Sam let his gaze move back and forth between his brother and Castiel, while trying to understand the events of last hour.

First there was Kevin Tran, the young boy who had broken in their room little less than hour ago, frantic and hazed look in his eyes, and tried to steal the stone tabled that they'd stolen from Dick Roman. Now the boy sat slumped over Sam's bed, holding the stone tablet against his chest like a safety planked. Sam could imagine how he felt right now, his normal life gone off the radar and without a clue if it would ever return to what it was.

Then Castiel appeared in the room, alive and in all his glory, to tell them that the stone tablet was one of the holders of the Word of God and that Kevin was actually a prophet, the only one who could read its message. That was right before the angel had got engaged by Dean into their (very repetitive) conversation.

And then there was Crowley (and why was he even there?), who stood leaning against the wall and ate roasted peanuts while watching Dean and Cas, looking all too amused.

"You're alive", Dean repeated, clearly unable to comprehend anything over that spot.

Castiel sighed. "Yes, Dean."

"But I saw you dying!"

"Ohhhh, plot-twist!" Crowley whistled, and Castiel turned to look at him with a pained expression. "Normally in this scene he says, 'But you died!' All this excitement may be too much to my poor heart…"

"You don't have a heart… and I thought that you'd already left", Castiel muttered, seemingly uncomfortable.

"And miss all fun? Yeah, sure; you could try to think this as my payback to you. You know, for BETRAYING me and all…"

Castiel just sighed again. "Do as you wish", he said, before turning back to Dean. "Dean, please, we need to talk about –"

"But you died!" Dean insisted.

"Yes, I did; but we have more important things to discuss at the moment. Dean, once the new prophet has been chosen –"

He didn't get any farther than that before three angels busted in the room. Sam met Crowley's eyes, and the demon simply shrugged before vanishing; clearly this was the part of "fun" he happily skipped over.

"Lucky bastard", Sam muttered.

* * *

It seemed that the angels had come to take Kevin in to desert to meditate and translate the the tablet. It took them a some time to explain that they couldn't just simply spirit him away, the boy being minor and all, and that his help was needed to fight the Leviathans. Things would have gone badly for them, had one of the angels not being Castiel's old friend and thus inclined to at least hear them out.

Eventually they got things worked out: angels let Kevin translate the part of the tablet that told them how to get rid of Leviathans, and then took him back to home, where his probably very worried mother waited. Sam made a little prayer for whoever was listening, that the boy could live a happy, normal life and forget these unfortunate events.

He had a little hope that it would happen.

"You want my blood? Mine? … You're serious, aren't you?"

Sam looked at Dean who rolled his eyes; why had they even thought that this would be the  _easy_  part?

"Be practical, F- Crowley", Castiel asked. "You said by yourself that you want us to get rid of the Leviathans."

"Well, that was before you started to speak anything about any spells requiring MY BLOOD", Crowley retorted.

Dean snorted. "Well, it doesn't have to be yours; maybe we should just finish you off and see if the next king of Hell on the line is feeling more helpful…"

Crowley scowled at him, and to Sam's surprise, so did Cas.

"Dean, you're not helping", the angel scolded.

"What the- Are you taking his side?!" Dean exclaimed.

Crowley smirked smugly and opened his mouth, probably to bait Dean some more, but Castiel prevented it simply by putting his hand over the demon's mouth. "I'm not – There is no sides, Dean. We all want Leviathans gone; but to do that we need to able to trust each others."

Dean scoffed. "Like that bastard has ever trusted in anyone…"

Castiel's face went somber. "He trusted in me, once… And see where that bought us."

Sam opened his mouth to comment that, but closed it again. He was going to say "It's not your fault"… but that would be technically untrue, since Cas had indeed messed up a big time. "We've all made mistakes", he said instead. "What matters is that we try to make them up somehow."

Meanwhile Crowley had gotten Castiel's hand away from his mouth and glared at them all. "Yes, I don't trust you; but fine, I'll give you a little of my blood…  _after_  you've acquired the blood from the Alpha vampire."

Castiel frowned a bit, but nodded, before turning his questioning eyes towards the Winchesters. Sam shot a look at Dean, who seemed to be fuming with anger, and said, "That sounds… fair."

* * *

Bone of the Righteous Mortal… Check.

Blood of the Fallen Angel... Check.

Blood of the Alpha Vampire… Check.

Blood of the Ruler of Hell… Check… Maybe.

* * *

To the very last moment, Sam was sure that Crowley was double-crossing them. Never before had he hoped as dearly to be proved wrong.

In the end, he stood by himself in the room where his brother and Castiel had vanished into the vortex that – by Crowley's knowledge – had taken them to purgatory with Dick Roman and the other Leviathans. Now Crowley was gone, as was Kevin Tran – the boy had been saved from Leviathans only to be captured by demons.

Sam didn't know if he had enough tears to left to cry.

* * *

Apparently, Sam had managed to give Bobby a call at some time during his almost-mental-breakdown, before the next day elder hunter called him back, telling that everything was alright; Dean and Cas were back, Kevin Tran got safely back home – and no, he'd  _not_  sold his soul to Crowley, he's not an idiot,  _you idjit!_

And when he then heard Dean's voice from the other side of the line, he could finally cry.


	20. Of Feelings and How to Express Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Purgatory sequence with a little to no action but a lot of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a little longer time than usually to frap this up... I've got only a vague idea of where I'm going with this, so please be patient.

The Purgatory was just like Castiel had remembered it being: colorless and un-welcoming. But unlike last time, he now had no Fergus on his side, using his clever tricks to keep them out of harms way; instead, the man in his side was Dean Winchester, and though Castiel would never call that man defenseless, he now had no weapon in his hand. Also, unlike the last time, there was no Reaper waiting to fetch them away from there – unless Fergus would sent one, and Castiel didn't dare to even hope that.

"So this is Purgatory?" Dean said. "I'm not sure what I expected…"

Castiel could sense Leviathans close by. He knew they were after him; would they maybe leave Dean be if he got them to follow himself…?

"…Cass? Cass, are you listening?"

Cass looked back at him. "I'm sorry, Dean, I – I need to go."

He hadn't even ended the sentence before Dean grabbed a strong hold around him. It almost felt like a hug, and Castiel felt great temptation to relax in it, before he remembered where they were.

"What the hell you're talking about? Planning to leave me here?!"

"Dean, the Leviathans are coming… And it's me they're after. I can guide them away from you…"

"Okay, no. We're in this together, we'll survive from this together." Dean had his stubborn expression, and Castiel almost felt like huffing from frustration.

Of course he didn't, but the temptation was great.

"Dean, alone you've better changes to survival."

"That's bullshit, Cass-!"

Right then, Castiel felt his hair rose up and feathers starting to flutter. "They are here", he told to his human companion, who glanced widly around them.

"I don't see…"

"They don't have a physical form here", Castiel answered and unsheathed his angel blade.

Dean's hand took a hold of Castiel's wrist. "That flying thing… You wouldn't be in a enough of mojo to take a passenger with you?"

Castiel frowned. "I could, but it would take almost all my strenght for a some time."

"Well, you should still do it. Like, NOW."

Nodding, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean and flew to the only place in this realm that he could think about – the valley where he and Fergus had relished Fenrir.

"Wow", Dean said as soon as they landed. Then he promptly threw up.

Castiel helped him to the river bench and Dean washed his mouth and splashed some water over his face.

"Let's never do  _that_  again. Oh, man…"

"I'm sorry; I should have warned you that it would be a little rocky fly. My… powers won't work here as well as they could."

"You think so? Because rollercoaster is  _nothing_  comparing to that."

"I already said that I was sorry."

"Yeah, whatever… So, where are we?" Dean asked and looked around them.

"This is where I and F- Crowley came when we visited the Purgatory before. This is where Fenrisulfr was chained into a rock for a thousands of years."

"Who-? Oh, the wolf-guy." Dean nodded. "Where there he was chained?"

Castiel tilted his head. "All around as. This valley was carved on the ground by his body."

Dean's eyes widened a bit. "Well, damn. And you thought it was wise to just… let him go? Giant wolf, just like that?"

"I wasn't as if we had any choices in that… Dean, what are we going to do next? I think that here we're safe from werewolves – they seemed to think Fenrir as their god or something – and they probably won't let vampires to enter, either… but it won't be long before leviathans find us again."

"First things first, Cass", Dean said. "Let's see if we can find any kind of weapon for me."

They walked around looking for something useful; the remains of the sword were there, but way too large to hold, and they had no tools to shape them into anything else. Finally Dean picked up one of Fenrir's teeth and started to work it with Castiel's angel blade, till he had something that roughly reminded a knife. "That will do, for now", Dean decided. "So… any idea how we'll get out of here?"

Castiel bite his lip hesitantly before shaking his head. "We… won't, Dean. I've no idea if there are any exit, or where to start looking them; last time, we only got out because Fergus had the reaper helping us –"

"Wait, what? Who is Fergus?"

"I mean Crowley", Castiel muttered, feeling quite stupid for his slip.

"You – are you first name basis with him? The demon? Cass, what the – Are you crazy?"

"Just to differ him from his father", Castiel explained hastily. "And because it irritates him."

"Is that so?" Dean asked doubtfully, but let it rest anyway, for which Castiel was thankful.

They stood a while quietly, before Dean started talking again; "I think that we should follow the river and see where it goes – I mean it has to go somewhere, right?"

"I don't think that place will be any better than this one", Castiel said.

"But we can't just stay here, either! You said it yourself: Leviathans will follow us, no matter what. Besides, maybe we'll find a way out of there, if we start looking."

Apparently Dean still held hope of escaping. "There is no way, Dean –"

"No way that you know about, Cass!" Dean grabbed Castiel's shoulders and shook him a bit. "I know that this situation isn't looking so good right now; but we cannot just lay down and give up! Our friends are waiting us, Cass. We need to at least try!"

Dean's face was so close; the unyielding fire in his eyes, the stern frown of his brows, the stubborn jut of his jaw… he was a very sight of determination, and suddenly Castiel felt a strong temptation to just reach little closer and plant a kiss over his lips. He felt his face starting to heath.

"Cass…? You okay, man?" Dean asked, and now he looked worried. It didn't suit him as well as the earlier look, but as he was looking at Castiel with those caring, pained eyes, it made the angels heart start to flutter with happiness.

"Cass!" Dean repeated, and Castiel forced himself back to the present.

"I'm fine, Dean, I'm… Just a little bit tired." It wasn't even a lie; Castiel's powers hadn't been great even  _before_  entering the Purgatory again, and in here they flowed… differently, weakly. Aziraphale had told him (when they had talked about Purgatory while Castiel had been recovering from the Leviathans), that their grace probably weakened there because of the absence of God existence in that realm.

Dean seemed chastised. "Oh, right… You did tell that flying as here would take a lot of your strenght, didn't you? Man, I'm sorry… Maybe we should sit for a while?" he said, and pointed towards few big rocks, which would offer them a some shelter from a view.

_Why does Dean have to be so… Dean_ , Castiel wondered as they settled themselves to sit, not able to define his companion's virtues further than that. Dean just was  _Dean_ , perfectly flawed, stubborn, fierce, loyal, caring, funny, self-sacrificing,  _rightful_  man, and Castiel loved him so much that it hurt.

_I need to tell him_ , Castiel thought,  _or else I feel like I'll explode… But what if he gets angry? What if he doesn't want to be near me anymore? I fear that that would be something I couldn't bear…_

Dean was quiet too; probably thinking about Sam, fearing what he would do now, without older brother on his side. Bond between brothers was something that Castiel could almost be envious about, and not only because of his feelings towards Dean; he'd never shared such a bond between any of his siblings, not even those who'd been closest to him. Even Aziraphale felt more like what he always thought that father would be, patient, forgiving and always loving… and a bit dork, like Fergus would have added.

Fergus. Ironically, from all his peers, that one who came closest to feel like a real brother was a demon…

_And now he'll never trust me again… But what does that even matter, since it's doubtful that we'll ever meet each other again…?_

Dean's hand came to Castiel's shoulder and shook gently. "Cass… I think we're not alone anymore."

Castiel raised his head and and tried to sense any other presences; Dean was right, the Leviathans were closing once again, but this time there was also something else, almost familiar, but hard to identify – and it was  _close_.

"Leviathans are coming, but… I think there's something else near of us, too."

"Dangerous?" Dean asked, and took his new knife in his hand.

"I… assume that everything here could be categorized as dangerous beings. This one… I'm not sure. This place is messing up my senses." He went silent for a moment, and continued then, more quietly, "It's almost here."

Dean nodded, and put a finger over his lips to ask silence before grouched up in to half-standing position; his hand clenching hard around the handle of his knife, and then he jumped out of their hide –

\- And Castiel heard screaming: "Don't kill me! Mr. Winchester, I haven't come to cause you any grievances! I was sent to –"

The voice was eerily familiar, and Castiel stood up too and stepped out to see just whom they had caught. He saw Dean holding a man against rocks, with his knife on the mans throat. Castiel recognized the man almost right away.

First, all he could do was blink his eyes. As it didn't change a thing, he blinked some more, until he was sure that he's eyes really were seeing what he thought they were.

The man was Fergus' reaper.

The reaper seemingly recognized him too. "Mr. Castiel!" he exclaimed, clearly relived. "Could you please ask your – em – friend here to stand down? I swear, I have no ill means towards you, I –"

"Dean, let him up", Castiel said, and the hunter, who seemed little suspicious yet mostly bemused. "Why are you here?" he then asked from the reaper.

"To take you back, what else?" the reaper answered. "I certainly didn't anticipate that I would end up being pushed around and have a knife held against my neck!"

"What you mean, to take us home?" Dean questioned, paying no attention to the reaper's whining.

"Exactly what I said! I got paid to come here an take you back! Are we kind of ready to go now, since I sense very hostile beings creeping closer?"

"Who paid you?" Dean asked, just as Castiel said, "How did you know we were right here?"

"Crowley!" the reaper groaned, and Castiel felt a warm wave flashing through himself. "He asked me to bring you back. He said that I should check here first, since this should be the safest place on the whole Purgatory, and that you would know that too! Can we please,  _please_  just go now?"

Sensing the Leviathans near by, Castiel nodded and took the reaper's hand while offering the another towards Dean. "Take our hands, Dean, and hold on tight; we're going home."

Dean seemed unsure, but crabbed the offered hands – and once again, the whole world started to vanish… Leviathans screamed out of frustration, but they we're left behind… And then they were standing at the warm sunlight, right outside of the same laboratory where they'd been spirited away to the Purgatory.

"Well, here you are", the reaper said. "And goodbye. Please tell Crowley that I kept my part of the deal, and if he ever lost anyone else in the Purgatory… then he should find someone else to bring them back, since I've gotten enough of your lot!" And before Castiel had time for even say "thank you", the reaper was gone.

Dean looked around, and looked some more – and then he "whooped", throw his arms around Castiel's waist, and whirled them around out of sheer relief. He probably didn't think much about it – to Dean, it was just way to express his overflowing happiness – but for Castiel, it meant so much more. He felt his poor heart pounding against his ribcage, and there was nothing else he could do: he kissed him.

At first, for a one, amazing moment, Dean answered his kiss, probably forgotten where he was and with whom; but then, his eyes went wide and he released Castiel and stood a step back as quickly as if Castiel had just burned him. The angel tried to not feel disappointed, but he was sure that his face was showing it all.

"W-what was that, man?" Dean stuttered. "Please tell me that that was just something you do when you feel really happy, okay? An angel thing, right?"

Castiel hesitated; Dean was offering him a way out. If you just said, that the joy had made him loose his senses for a moment, they could continue like the kiss never happened and it would ever to be mentioned again. But that would have been dishonest, and Castiel was tired to try to deny his feelings any longer.

"I… I love you, Dean", he said instead, plain and simply.

Dean gulped. "Y-yeah, uh… Well, you… Do you mean, like a friend or –"

"I mean it in every way possible", Castiel answered. "I… have never felt like this before, towards anyone."

"Uh… Well, I, uh…"

"You don't need to say anything, Dean; I know that you see me as a friend, and nothing else." Castiel looked at him nervously. "You… do still think me as a friend, don't you?"

Dean blinked his eyes repeatedly. "Why, yes, of course!" he said, maybe hastier that should be required. "Like a best pals, you and me… but that, um, other thing…"

"I do understand, Dean. I'm not expecting you to tend my selfish whims. And I apologize about the kiss; I was never meant to do that, nor let you know about my feelings in a situation like this. Yet I am little relieved now that you know. I… don't want to keep secrets from you any more."

"Oh – Um, yeah, it's, it's fine, just… don't sweat it, Cass, okay? You did nothing wrong…"

The silence that fell between them was awkward and uncomfortable; either of them knew what to say next. Then, they could hear someone coughing to catch their attention.

Fergus smirked smugly at them. "So… How was the Purgatory?"

"Damn you little…", Dean started, raising his fists, but Castiel stepped between them.

"I would like to thank you for your assistance", he said, looking hopefully at the demons eyes.

Fergus shrugged nonchalantly, but Castiel could see that he was feeling little uncomfortable. "If you want to thank someone, thank Bobby; he talked me into this", the demon said, but added, little quieter, "And maybe I was worried about Aziraphale's reaction, too. I don't need his talk about how someone just don't abandon their  _brother_  into a Purgatory. Featherhead."

Innuendo was so clear that Castiel couldn't hold back his smile. He would had wanted to do all kinds of things – like apologize again, or hug Fergus – but all he did was repeat, "Thank you."

Fergus shrugged again. "You're welcome."

Dean was staring between them. "Hey, hey, hey! What the-?!"

"You should heed at Bobby's, now", Fergus continued, giving him no attention. "He's been worried, you know – about the both of you. He knows to wait you to come, so get moving."

"You talked about Bobby – wait - did he made a deal with you? Again?" Dean shouted.

Fergus rolled his eyes. "No, he didn't. But since you probably won't believe me, why don't you just go and ask? I'm sure that Castiel has no problem to get you there…"

Dean snapped his mouth shut and glanced towards Castiel, blushing a bit. Castiel felt tight knot forming in the bit of his stomach.  _He doesn't want me to touch him right now…_

Fergus apparently noticed their nervousness, and by the sharp look he shot at Castiel, he also knew the source of it. "Of all the-! Fine, I'll do it; Castiel, are you going with him?"

"I –" Castiel hesitated, before shaking his head, "I need to talk with – Aziraphale."

Fergus squinted his eyes unapprovingly, but said nothing to that. "Very well – Squirrel, say "hello" to Bobby for me!"

"Now, hold on a sec", Dean started, but Fergus sent him on his way with a snap of his fingers.

"Fine, then", the demon said as he looked back to Castiel, "what was that? He didn't react well at your confession?"

Castiel frowned. "You knew."

Fergus scoffed. "Please! It was so obvious, that I think that even Aziraphale noticed it – and my father, who hadn't even noticed that he and Az are practically married couple! You need to learn subtlety, feathers. So – how did he react?"

Castiel looked at the ground. "He – I think he's scared", he admitted, and then shot an irritated look at Fergus who started to giggle by that.

"If I had known that that was all that it takes to make him loose his shit – fine, fine, I'll let it be!" Fergus managed to muffle his glee enough to gaze seriously at Castiel's eyes. "You best to not get too bothered by that… There are other men, you know. And women, if gender ain't your issue."

Castiel tilted his head. "What would their gender have to do with anything?" he asked.

"It's a human thing, in most cases", Fergus answered. "Don't bother your head with it too much."

Castiel smiled timidly. "It feels… good. To talk with you again. To have you explain these terms to me…"

"Is that what I am to you? A dictionary?" Fergus whined, but Castiel know that he was pleased, too. "…Whatever. Look, I've got a kingdom to look after. You go to Aziraphale's, and – well, till the next time, I guess?" the demon smirked little anxiously, like he had been going to say something else but caught himself just in time, and in a puff of sulfur, he was gone.

Castiel smiled at the empty spot where he'd stood. "I'll see you soon again, Fergus."

And then he, too, was gone.


	21. Of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love can be confusing for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing abot love, I'm a poor possible-asexual, possible-aromantic nuthead, but this is best I could do, please forgive me my ignorance!

Dean layed on his bed in a cheap motel room middle of nowhere and tried to sleep, but ended up just tossing and turning restlessly around.

It had been weeks since their return from the Purgatory, and Castiel had kept his distance – probably holed up in Aziraphale’s bookshop – and for that, Dean was grateful; at least most of the time, when he didn’t worry about if he’d hurt the angel’s feelings. He know that now on they would both do their best to pretend that that kiss and confession never happened, witch would mean that every time one of them opened his mouth he would think that “no matter what, don’t bring up the kiss”, and so the memory would inconsistently always stay clear and foremost in their minds.

It wasn’t that Dean now hated Cass or was disgusted by him; the situation just was incredible awkward. He had no idea what was the most decent way to act next. Cass was the closest friend he’d ever had – excluding Sam, but that was totally different case as Sammy was always first his younger brother and only secondly his friend; Dean was always responsible for him, had been since their early childhood, in a way he never needed to be for Cass.

Dean shot a look to a opposite bed where his brother slept. Sam snored peacefully, and for a moment Dean wanted to throw him with a pillow, only so that he wouldn’t need to be alone in his misery. Instead, he stood up and walked to the fridge to serve himself another beer.

Sam was actually another reason why Dean anticipated Cass return. If – and when - Cass dropped by, Sam would right away detect that everything wasn’t quite right between them, and would think that they’d have a fight or something, and then Dean would need to tell him, too, and… And he really wasn’t ready to do that. Not before he knew what he should think about this all.

The problem – or at least part of the problem – was that Cass was – well, he was Cass. He was brave, loyal and unselfish – too much so sometimes. Yes, he certainly messed up every now and then, but then again, who didn’t? And he was cute, in that adorably clueless way as puppy dogs were. All put together, there wasn’t many reasons for _not_ to like Cass, maybe even enough to actually call it love.

There was jus one, big BUT in there.

Dean liked chicks. There was no question about that; it was so clear that when he was a teenager his father had seen no reason to even mention to him about alternatives. Not that there had been much of a conversation anyways… But the point was: Women. And Cass wasn’t one.

Okay, so he wasn’t really a man; angel’s didn’t have bodies on their own, so apparently they’d no sexes, either (and wasn’t that just depressing?), but Cass lived in a male vessel, and that made him, well, _him_ , at least in Dean’s eyes. And maybe good ol’ Jimmy had been quite a looker, but still a _male_.

Of course, _that problem_ could be easily solved: Cass could always find an another body to invest. But that would be _wrong_ in so many different levels; like Cass was flawed in some way, like he would need to change himself only to be loved (and not to even mention the original owner of that possible new body, who would be ripped away from her life and loved ones; seriously, it was so messed up that Dean tried to not even think about it).

And, even while in different body it would still undoubtedly _be_ Cass, it would somehow make it even _worse_ ; the same tilt of his head, the same confused frown – but the face would be different, and the voice… Dean quite liked Cass’ soft, husky voice as it was. And his eyes. He tried to think about Cass’ deep, contemplating, soulful gaze looking at him through someone else’s eyes, but that felt just so _wrong_.

Dean massaged his temples. He had no idea how to process this; apart from Sam, only person he could even think about talking to was Bobby, and, yeah, no. The older hunter was closest thing he could think as a father figure, but what came to feelings and relationships and the whole talking part… well, he _kind of_ sucked at that.

So, who else there were? Crowley? _No way in hell._ The demon seemed to get along with Cass, and visa versa, surprisingly well, but it wasn’t near enough for Dean to trust him and certainly not to ask him any kind of advise whatsoever. Sheriff Jody? She was reasonable enough, but… Dean really didn’t know her _that_ well. Then there was Kevin, but he was a teenager, and just how pathetic it would be ask him for a advice considering relationships? Mrs. Tran would probably just cuff Dean for being a loser and thinking too much. Garth… no. And just like that, there were no more names left to add.

 _Short list_ , Dean thought bitterly. He put the empty beer can in the sink and went back to bed, trying to catch some sleep before they would once again hit the road.

* * *

“He must hate me”, Castiel moaned softly. He sat at Aziraphale’s kitchen table, face buried into his arms, while full cup of tea slowly cooled off before him. “What was I thinking? No-one just goes and kisses someone, especially someone who doesn’t even… who hasn’t ever given a slightest glue that he could actually feel any attraction towards you!”

Aziraphale and Antony shared a look. As long as they had lived among humans, neither of them was really adapted in relationships; Anthony mostly knew how to break them. So far, all they could do was offer tea, pat over shoulder and gentle phrases like “it’ll be okay” and “I’m sure it’s not so bad” or “how could anyone hate you, dear?”; they’d even asked advise from Fergus, who at least had once been a human and should have some experience in relationships, but he’d just shrugged little awkwardly and told them that he already had enough to do with his own social life.

“So your – ahem - _liaison_ with Bobby Singer has developed?” Anthony had inquired, and Fergus had sighed with fond irritation before replying, “If it can even be called _that_. Just… tell him – Feathers, I mean – that he needs to give that idjit some time to sort out his feelings.”

So they gave him time. Castiel started once again to mend his bees, and tried to look contend with his life, but Aziraphale could see worry and restlessness laying right under his skin. The young angel wanted to be at older Winchester’s side – so much was clear – but at the same time, he seemed to be extremely nervous of meeting him. From what Aziraphale could understand, most of Castiel’s nervousness was caused by the fact that he didn’t want _Dean_ to be nervous.

Aziraphale wanted to help him – help both of them, if possible. Because, right now, Aziraphale’s own life happier than it had ever been (including his time in Heaven, since although he’d certainly been happy there, he hadn’t yet been a _person_ ), and like all those who have got their dream come true, he wanted to spread that happiness to those near him.

The reason of Aziraphale’s happiness was quite simply: he and Anthony had started their own relationship for a sometime back – while Castiel had still been recovering from his encounter with Leviathans – and while they were still little quiet about it, that didn’t made it any less serious.

* * *

As an angel, Aziraphale had always been able to feel love – its was in his work description, so to say – but it had also been somewhat abstract sort of love. He loved humans, but no more and sometimes even less than he loved his book collection, and most of the time he loved them because, well, that’s what angel should do. As what came to Anthony… first he’d been just a demon, someone to fight against, but then had came the Agreement, and then one night his scaly companion had stood behind his door and _begged_ him to help his son, _for someone’s sake_ … and as time passed, he’d tentatively started to consider Anthony as a _friend_.

And then had came the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t, and everything had changed for good.

Of course Aziraphale had known a long time that he enjoyed Anthony’s company little more than what was expected from him – then again, hate the sin, love the sinner, right? - but he hadn’t seen or refused to see that at some point he’d started to love him in a whole different way, deeper than a friend; he’d fell _in love_ with him.

That had shook Aziraphale, who had always thought that that peculiar kind of love was something that required some kind of… physical aspect. Something that he, as an unsexual being, couldn’t easily express and had hard time to even comprehends.

Aziraphale’s body might look like that of human male, but he didn’t have a working sexual organs (if he didn’t really put an effort on it, and where’s the point?). The whole concept of gender bemused him most of the time, and the foremost reason he even looked like a male instead of female was that the social structure of the most of the civilizations would had made more female body type impractical during most of his staying on earth. That made little sense to him, and sometimes he even thought that it had been a big mistake from those early beings to divide their sexes in the first place.

So Aziraphale had decided that it was time to finally get some clearance in to the whole gender-business, and best way to manage that would be to do some research. Normally, the first place he would look for information would be a library, but this time he hesitated. What was he looking for, exactly? Did humans even write books about things like gender and so on, when they already had one from the very beginning?

He needed to ask it from someone. First he thought about Loke, who was (in some parts of reality) Anthony’s… parent, and whose gender was ambiguous at the very least; but then again, he’d never been good at following Loke’s thinking process, and he couldn’t help feeling jumpy at the pagan god’s presence. Besides, last time Loke has visited his house, all the books in his library had moved in different selves, or the covers had mixed up, or, in some cases, all the letter in the book had changed their order making it a whole new book – all written with gibberish, though Anthony swore that it was an actual language, which had been commonly used a few universums back. Books had eventually turned back to normal after Loke’s chaotic miasma had left the house, but it goes without saying that Aziraphale hadn’t been very inclined to ask Loke drop by after that.

(Then there was of course that little thing that it would have felt unbelievable awkward to ask for a help from a person who was _that_ person’s parent of whom said help eventually _was_ all about.)

The next person Aziraphale could think of was Anathema. The young woman was intelligent, and seemed to understand the world from a bigger point-of-view than most humans – possible because of her witch heritage – so Aziraphale called to her. Anathema listened understandingly and then invited herself to tea.

The talk Anathema gave to him was a little overwhelming, to say least, but it gave Aziraphale a lot to think about. Anathema could also recommend some books and after asking if he’d learned to use computer (a bit) she also wrote down some sites where Aziraphale could visit.

It was complicated; besides the biological gender, humans also had sexual gender, which could be same as the biological one or not, or even both of them at the same time; and then they also had many different sexual and romantic orientations, and their subgroups. At example: Person could biologically represent one gender, while being another by their sexual gender, feel sexual preference towards their biological gender but be unable to feel any romantic attraction towards anyone.

It was a lot bigger cake than Aziraphale had anticipated, but he’d done his decision, and wouldn’t stop before he wholly understood this.

Finally Aziraphale braced himself enough to open his computer and log in one of the sites that Anathema had recommend. There people wrote with their own words about their personal experiences; they told about their feelings and worries, how they’d felt that there was something horribly wrong with them before they finally realized that their gender/sexual orientation/romantic orientation was different that what they’d thought that it was, and that it didn’t make them any lesser of from whom if anyone they were attracted of. After reading many of these stories, Aziraphale thought that maybe he was beginning to understand…

And suddenly it all had made so much sense: how he’d always sought Anthony’s company, how happy he was when the demon decided to spent a night at his house; why seeing him at morning, sitting in his kitchen with his hair mussed by sleep, made his heart swell while wanting to reach out and brush those hairs back in order with his fingers…

 _Love_. He was in love… with a demon.

First, it had worried him. Angels had of course known fallen in love and even made children with humans – because that’s where the Nephilim’s had came from – but to be in a close relationship with demon…? Unheard of.

But then he reminded himself, that when he’d walked to stand against Lucifer, it hadn’t been his brothers who came to stand beside him – no, they waited for their glorious war to start – but Anthony, _his_ demon, who had stood at his side, scared out of wits and only a tire iron in his hand, yet still ready to die at his side.

(Okay, so Mr. Shadwell had been there too… And eventually it’d been Adam who handled the situation and struck his father into the Cage before altering the universe so that he’d now been locked in there ever since the war in Heaven… But they hadn’t known that then!)

As what came to the demons inability to feel love… Aziraphale no longer found it in himself to believe so. He now felt ashamed by that thoughtless comment he’d once blurted out near Lower Tadfield, when he’d felt Adam’s love towards his home everywhere around them and told Anthony that he couldn’t explain it to him because of his nature as a demon. He’d no idea if the comment had hurt Anthony, but it certainly hasn’t made it any easier for the demon to finally realize his own softer feelings towards both Aziraphale and his own son.

* * *

Nowadays, even while Anthony still had his apartment, he came over every day for a breakfast and stayed till evening, sometimes spending a night in. They didn’t have sex – neither of them felt any need for that – but if Anthony went to sleep, Aziraphale accompanied him, and they cuddled together in his bed. The only reasons why Anthony didn’t simply move in seemed to be his houseplants (which would apparently be either spoiled rotten or get killed with Aziraphale unskilled caretaking, if he ever dared to bring them in), and the fact that he hadn’t yet got around to tell Fergus about their new relationship.

So that was why Aziraphale now felt so determined to help Castiel; even though - as knew Anthony all too well - he’d done so anyway. “Never the one to take care just of your own business, are you, angel?” he’d said with fond frustration.

“Never”, Aziraphale had admitted proudly before kissing him softly on the cheek.

* * *

Dean was, once again, alone in a bar. He’d flirted a bit with a pretty waiter, like he normally did, but it hadn’t managed to cheer him up; actually, it had just brought Cass in his mind, just when he’d thought to let it rest.

He sat there, nursing his beer, when someone sat down on his table. Frowning with irritation, he raised his head to tell that someone to find an another table, when he realized that he actually knew the newcomer.

“It’s a bit… down-to-earth place, aren’t it?” the angel – Azi-something? – said and raised one of his well-manicured hands to ask service. Waiter brought him a beer, and the blond angel peered at it with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

“Yeah”, Dean muttered, feeling completely bemused. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I just happened to walk by and saw you and decided to come and say ‘hello’”, the angel answered and smiled cheerfully.

Dean didn’t buy it. “You’re here because of Castiel.”

“Ah, well – yes. The poor dear is so depressed, that I thought that I should just come and ask you straight away if you truly hate him and never want to see him again now that you know about his feelings.”

It threw Dean little out of balance. “Hate him?” he exclaimed. “No, of course I don’t! I, I just –“

The angel watched him with his gentle eyes. “Yes, Dean?” he inquired. As Dean just dropped his gaze back to his mug, the angel sighed. “You can talk to me, if you want; I’ll listen.”

Dean scoffed. “Why should I do that? I hardly even know you!”

“Oh, I know; but I only have your best intention in my mind. After all, my younger brother cares you a lot; and I happen to know that my – um, my dear friend’s son holds you in high regard - for a human, anyways. And”, the angel added with softer voice, “I think I can relate, somewhat. You see, I know how confusing love sometimes can be.”

Dean didn’t know what to say in that.

The angel smiled before reached out to pat his hand. Dean was so surprised that it took a moment before he realized what was happening and pulled his hand away.

The angel – seriously, what was that name? Azirafiel? – didn’t look bothered by his action. “Please talk to me, dear; even if I cannot give you any advise – I certainly aren’t an expert in what comes to the matters of heart! – I’ve noticed that sometimes simply talking to someone who listens without judging can feel refreshing.”

The angel voice was kind and somehow hypnotizing; it made Dean want to believe – in something; himself, perhaps…? “I’m just so confused”, he admitted, without really planning to do so. “I mean, things were just going back to normal; Cass was back to us, I’d forgiven him for his betrayal, we beat the Leviathans and got out of the Purgatory without a cut… And then he suddenly is in love with me? The man – angel – whatever, who didn’t even know what to do with a hooker?!”

The angel listened him while sipping his beer (and when had beer ever been so – _red_ …? Was it wine or something? _In a mug?!_ ), eyes closed but clearly contemplating every word he said. “It’s okay to be confused, dear”, he finally reassured. “It was little… reckless for Castiel, to just blurt it out like that, without any preparations – but then again, he’s very young angel, all things considered; he has a history of making some very rushed decisions…”

“So I’ve seen”, Dean scoffed.

The angel smiled at him. It was a nice, kindly smile, which in some weird way reminded Dean about his _mother_ , of all things. “As what comes for Castiel “suddenly” being in love with you… I would say that it was a long coming. He’s always looked at you upwards. Being frustrated by your, sometimes, no doubt in that… but still given a great significance to your opinions and decisions. He really admires you, you know.” The angel was quiet for a moment, seemingly hesitating, before asking, “Feel free to pass answering, but… is it only the gender that Castiel represent that makes this so confusing for you…?”

“What?!” Dean exclaimed loudly – too loudly, since people off other tables turned to look at them. He lowered his tone into a hiss before continuing, “What you mean, “only” his gender? It’s a rather big part of that, isn’t it?”

The angel shrugged nervously. “How should I know, dear? It’s not like I have one – gender, I, mean.”

Dean stared at him. “What you mean? You’re a guy, aren’t you?”

“Well, no… not exactly. My body has a shape of a male human – the female one would have been rather impractical back in days – but I don’t have, ahem, how would Fergus put this…? – tools in the downstairs, so to say.”

“Oh. …Well, sucks be you, then.”

The angel quirked his eyebrow amusedly. “And why is that?” he asked.

“Well, you… doesn’t that mean that you can’t, uh, you know…”, Dean stammered.

“… Have a sex?” the angel concluded. “That’s what you’re asking, right?”

“…Yes”, Dean muttered, with a heavy blush. Damn, that was something he didn’t want to talk about with someone he barely knew, and _especially_ not with _Cass’ older brother_ …!

The angel smiled contentedly. “No need to be embarrassed, dear”, he assured. “And what comes to, let’s say, _physical attraction_ , no, I can’t either feel or express that, _if I don’t put and effort to it_. You understand, my body isn’t a vessel like Castiel’s is; this was made for me, so it answers to my wishes. If I really _wanted_ to have sex, even if just to try what it felts like, then yes, I could do that. After all, I knew for certain that Anthony has tried it some times: Fergus is kind of unmistakable prove of that…”

It took Dean a moment to process that and then to remember whom the angel was referring to. Of course – Crowley and his father. Now if he only could recall the angels name – Azirale? Azirafle?

“Aziraphale, dear”, the angel said, and continued, as Dean stared at him surprisedly, “My name is Aziraphale. Though I certainly won’t blame you for forgetting it – It’s not the most commonly mentioned in the lore – so please feel free to refer me “Az”, that’s what everyone else do… And no, you didn’t say it out loud, nor did I read your mind; its just been clear that you’ve been pondering it ever since we started talking. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier… it seems that Anthony’s nature has rubbed on me a little more than what I’ve expected.”

“Uh… okay. So, Az, you… So you haven’t never…?”

“Put an effort to it? No, I haven’t; never felt like it was necessary; of course, if Anthony someday wants to try, I don’t believe it would be too much to ask, but as long as simply holding him while he rests seems to be enough for both of us, I see no reason to…”

“Wait, what? You and the guy with the sunglasses – Crowley’s old man – you’re, like… item?”

“Oh, yes… Not that we’ve yet made a lot noise about it but…”

Dean had a hard time to wrap his brains around that image. “But aren’t he like, a demon? And you’re an…”

“…angel, yes”, Az admitted. “And yes, I know our love may seem little heretic – my brethren in Heaven would absolutely not gave their blessing to it – but we’re happy, and I think that that’s what truly counts, or don’t you think?”

Dean shook his head bemusedly. “You’re something totally else than the rest of your kind, aren’t you? Well, you and Castiel.”

Az shrugged. “We’ve both spend a lot time along you mortals, and not only by observing you, but living with you; sharing experiences, learning and understanding. Of course, for me, Anthony too played a big role in my unravelling… But he isn’t quite an ordinary demon – or even fallen – by himself, either.” There was fondness in the angels voice, and his smile turned wishfully.

“You really love him, don’t you?” Dean asked, now feeling little amused.

“I do”, Az answered simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“How? I mean, when did you…?”

“When I started to love him? Or when I realized that I already did?”

Dean shrugged. “Any of them. Both. Whatever.”

Az thought it over a moment before answering. “When did it happen? That’s hard to say. Maybe it was when we took our stand against Lucifer duiring his first try at apocalypse; I had my flaming sword, and he held tire iron in his hand… so scared that I expected him to any moment turn into a snake and slither in hiding, but he stood his ground beside me, even if it all seemed hopeless, ready to die at my side, at the side of his friend… But probably it was earlier than that; maybe when I realized _where_ the apocalypse was meant to happen, and I _wanted_ to call him - it was the first thing that came to my mind: “Call Crowley” (he was still Crowley for me back then) – but then I called to Heaven instead… I should have called Anthony”, Az muttered, more to himself than for Dean. “But of course, it would have been a long time before that, too; maybe it was even as early as when he brought Fergus to me, worried and desperate to safe his only child whose existence he hadn’t even known before that day… or any time after that, when we started to spent more and more time together, first for Fergus’ sake, and them simply because _we wanted to_.”

Then Az was again quiet for a moment, pondering it in his head before continuing, “So it’s really hard to say, when it started. As what comes to when I realized it… Well, that’s a lot easier. One day we just were spending time in my house – I was reading and he played with his phone, I think it was some kind of game – Fergus has tried to teach me to use those new smartphone-things, but I still don’t quite get it – and apparently he’d at some point fallen asleep since when I rose up, he was laying all over my sofa, his limbs hanging on the floor, and snoring quietly. I went to put a quilt over him – he doesn’t like cold, poor dear – and when I looked at his face… he seemed so peaceful and open. He didn’t even wear his sunglasses, hadn’t done that while in my shop for a some time then – and I realized that he _trusted_ in me. Not only trusted in me in things like preventing apocalypse or holding my part of Agreement, but… actually trusted me, his oldest enemy, enough to _fell asleep_ while in my house. Trusted _me_ to keep him safe.”

The angel shook his head, his eyes shining with emotion. “I was humbled by the trust he was giving me; and that’s when I realized that I would die for him. That I would be ready to lay my own existence into a waste just so he could live and be happy; that his happiness was more important for me than my own. That _I loved him_.”

Az took a sip from his mug. “After that, I was very confused for a some time – not so much because I was in love with a demon, but because I’d never thought that I could express that kind of romantic love, which I’d always thought that was something that needed that sexual nuance to work out; but I had a long talk with one enlightened friend of mine, who then recommend me some materials for my own researches… And that’s how I came to understand that there are _so many_ ways to love, and not just only one that’s universally right.”

Dean was quiet. Of course he knew that not all people saw sex as an necessary prove of love in romantic relationships… Put then again, if sex wasn’t the groundbreaker, then what did it matter of which gender the other participant represented in that kind of relationship…? He didn’t felt any sexual attraction towards males, but then again, his romantic relationships with women hadn’t never gotten so far, either – Lisa had been his longest partner, and even that – hadn’t worked out as well as it could have. His work wasn’t something that anyone but him should be forced to put up with.

_But Cass already is in this world…_

_And you can’t be seriously thinking that, right…?_

_Nah, of course not… maybe. Probably._

_…!_

Dean was interrupted out of his musings by Az, who coughed a bit to catch his attention. “I don’t know what advise I should give to you… I can just ask that you won’t give up on your friendship with Castiel. He understands the difference between your feelings, and isn’t going to push you into anything that you don’t want to… but I can also see how it hurts him to be separated from you like this.” The angel sighed. “So… Could you at least give him a call? Please. Work this out. You’re a good team; please don’t let it go into a waste.”

Dean felt little ashamed. Of course he should had called to Cass; even though he’d said right away that he hadn’t been angry or disgusted by Cass’ sudden kiss, he should had made sure that the angel had understood that. Why awkward minutes on the phone wouldn’t have cost him a lot, but it would had mean so much more to Cass.

_Some friend I am._

“Sure”, he assured to Az, “I’ll give him a call. Tomorrow, okay? I think it’s best if I’m not drunk while I do that.” _And I need some time to work out what the hell I’m going to say so that I won’t turn this into a bigger mess than it already is…_

Az’s smile was delighted. “Thank you”, he said, and would probably have hugged Dean hadn’t his alarmed expression made him think it twice. “I’ll… just leave you to it, then? Oh, and it was pleasant to talk with you, again; maybe we could repeat this some time in the future…?”

Dean waved his hand. “Everything’s possible”, he said, and added, quietly, “And thank you for company; it… helped more than I thought it would.”

Az beamed at him. “Talking makes everything better”, he declared. “See you, Dean Winchester.”

The angel left, and it felt like the noises of the bar suddenly got a lot louder. And music, had there even been music before?

Dean shook his head and chugged the rest of his beer before asking for bill; the waitress looked at him with surprise and told him that the bill had already been covered. Dean couldn’t remember Az paying anything, but he supposed that angels must have their own tricks.

 _Best to hit the bed,_ he thought. _Sammy must be already wondering where I am… And I really need to think what I’m going to say to Cass tomorrow…_

But be it either beer or just the lasting impact of drinking at angels company, he didn’t found it in himself to worry it too much tonight.


	22. Of Reconstituting Status Quo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean maintain their friendship via phone.

"…So I went in, and there Sammy was, tied up in a bed like that writer-guy in Stephen King's novel, and Becky muttering like a maniac… Hey, are you sure I haven't told you this before?"

Castiel smiled and shook his head, even though Dean couldn't possibly see that. "No, you haven't. What happened next?"

Dean went back to his story, and Castiel relaxed in comfy coach he was sitting on, curled up like a teenage-girl with phone on his ear, like Anthony had mentioned with a fond smile on his face while he'd ushered Aziraphale out of the room. The demon always took care that Castiel was left alone when Dean called, and even if Castiel wasn't sure why, he was thankful of this little piece of privacy… Especially since the first call he'd gotten from Dean after the… kiss… had been just as awkward as they both had probably been afraid of.

Dean had gave Castiel a long and stammering talk about how he liked the angel, even if not in the way that Castiel, as far as he knew, would  _like_  him to  _like him_ , and that he thought that Castiel was an amazing person and that he didn't want to give up of their friendship, and that Dean was flattered, he really was, because Castiel deserved better (at this point Castiel tried to interrupt and tell Dean that that wasn't possible, but the hunter continued as if he hadn't even listened; possibly he was afraid that if he stopped talking he wouldn't have enough courage to continue his speech later), and that Dean would probably do better if he  _did_  love Castiel, in romantic sense he meant; but he didn't, not yet at least, but maybe he someday could now that he'd seen that as a possibility, and meanwhile, would it be possible for them just continue as they did before.

It had took sometime for Castiel to process what it was that Dean was actually aiming to, but finally he felt his whole world to brighten as it came clear that Dean, indeed,  _didn't_  hate him and wanted still to be his friend. He'd quickly answered that he, too, wanted them to be friends and that Dean wasn't obliged to give him any more than that.

Either of them hadn't known what else to say, and they had ended the call soon afterwards, feeling relieved yet strangely disappointed at the same time.

Next day, Dean had called again; this time, he'd started to talk about the latest case he and Sam had been solving, and so that had became course of their daily conversations: Dean talked about hunting trips (both current and the older ones that Castiel hadn't yet heard about), and Castiel on his part told him how it was to life with Aziraphale and Anthony (who nowadays hardly returned to his apartment at all).

"… And who else then marches in than king of douchebags himself! Man, was Crowley mad at that demon! "You make a deal, you keep it!"" Dean hollered, imitating, rather badly, Fergus' enraged voice. "Jeez, it was nice to have him in our corner, at least once…"

_He's been there more often than you even know_ , Castiel thought, but said nothing. The self-proclaimed king of Hell was one topic that the angel avoided while talking with Dean, even though the hunter had made few not-so-tactful inquiries. Castiel knew that Dean would possibly never to be able to see Fergus as anything but a demon, and he didn't want to strain their frailty-normalized friendship by trying to explain how much more complicated person Fergus was than what he let out. Castiel loved Dean, but his love towards Fergus was no lesser, though completely different kind (and he would never be able to tell that to the said demon, either), and he didn't want to put up with Dean's attempts to make him call off their friendship, which was more like a brotherhood than anything else nowadays.

"So… Enough about my crazy life, how have you been?"

Castiel smiled. "My life here simply isn't as colorful as yours, Dean. This morning, I was put on charge of Aziraphale's shop while he went with Anthony to meet some seller that had found some old tomes he thought that would be of his interest."

"How many customers you managed to scare away, this time?" Dean asked, mirth in his voice. Castiel could almost imagine his smirk, and it made him blush a little bit.

"The only customer that walked in was this old lady; she left without buying anything as soon as I started present her few of the most controversial prophesy-books in the store. She muttered something about "Satanists" as she

hurried out."

Dean laughed. "Who on earth keep a bookshop, if all he wants to do is to scare off any paying customers? How does he even live? Doesn't he need money for, you know, taxes and stuff?"

"It's easier for angels", Castiel reminded.

"True… And have they managed to introduce you to a pleasures of eating, yet?" Dean was intrigued about Aziraphale's and Anthony's constant attempts to teach Castiel into digesting food for his own pleasure, even if it was unneeded for an angel.

"They… keep trying." Yesterday, they'd took him into a French restaurant; before that, they'd already tried Italian, Korean, Indian and Chinese cuisines.

"They should buy you some hamburgers; those are  _real_  culinary treats", Dean said, and Castiel wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

"I'll tell them that", the angel promised.

"Then again, I'm not sure if you can find a good burger in UK; best to wait till your back here, then I'll take you in some good place."

Castiel's heart pounced little by that. Was that like… a date? No, Dean probably didn't see it like that…

"That would be nice, Dean", he answered.

"Yeah… Well, I have to go; Sammy should be back soon. Is it okay if I -?"

Dean asked almost every day if it was "okay" with Castiel that he hadn't yet told his brother that they talked daily on the phone. Dean had explained than if he knew, he would then start to question why Castiel hadn't dropped by even though he was staying on Earth, and while it was okay for Dean to converse with Castiel on the phone, he wasn't ready yet to do same face to face. Castiel had said that he understood, but Dean still seemed to feel little guilty about it – or, as he put it,  _"Like you're some kind of dirty little secret of mine… Which you're not; there's absolutely nothing dirty in you! Or me talking to you… Nothing dirty in this at all!"_

Castiel sighed. "You don't need to tell him that I'm not residing in Heaven at the time. That's where I should be…"

"Don't start this again, Cass; you said that Aziraphale told you to not return there because factions that are on rule in there right now wouldn't treat you friendly."

"It isn't as if I deserved kindness."

"Cass: Shut. Up. I that clear enough? You made mistakes: don't we all? You at least tried to made world a better place, and it's more than what those bureaucrats up there have ever even though to do. Because  _they don't care_. You do; and yes, it went almost as badly as it possibly could go, but when you realized that you'd made a mistake, you immediately tried to fix it."

"And failed", Castiel muttered. "Instead of fixing anything, I just ended up releasing Leviathans."

"AND you helped us to took care of that. So no more talking about returning Heaven, understand?"

"Dean…"

"Promise me, Castiel. Promise, that you won't do  _anything_  before consulting me or Aziraphale. Or his Crowley. Or even  _our_ Crowley… Heck, just promise me!"

"… I promise."

"Good boy", Dean said. "I would give you a cookie, but… Next time, okay?"

"Okay", Castiel answered, puzzled of what cookies had to do with anything. "I… You'll call again tomorrow, won't you?"

"Won't I always? – I have to go, take care, Cass!" Dean said, hurriedly, and ended the call; apparently Sam had just arrived.

Castiel put his phone away, tiny smile on his lips, as hi whispered in a empty room, "Take care, Dean…"

* * *

Castiel stepped in the kitchen and found all his current family sitting there, sipping tea (and possible something stronger) in comfortable silence. When he came in, Aziraphale hurriedly stood up to make another cup for him, Anthony raised his own cup for a silent greeting, and Fergus raised his eyebrow before saying, "Do you need to look so… infatuated? It's disturbing; you look like you could start flying any moment now…"

"I'm an angel; flying's not unfamiliar feet to me", Castiel pointed out as he sat down.

"That was figure of speech", Fergus started to clarify, but stopped short when he realized that Castiel was actually smiling. "You knew that, didn't you? Why, you cunning little shi-!"

Anthony sniggered. "Isn't it cute how well our kids come along, angel?" he asked from Aziraphale, who shot a puzzled look at him before he saw the demon gesturing towards Castiel and Fergus.

"Our – Oh! Of course. Yes, they get along splendidly, don't they?" he answered, and smile he gave to Anthony was so full of love that it made the demon plush.

"Oh, please! Why have all members of this suddenly became so smitten?!" Fergus whined.

"Like you haven't", Anthony retorted pointedly.

"Not in front of Feathers!"

"Am I not allowed to know?" Castiel asked, little put out; he'd thought that he and Fergus had gotten over their trust-issues already.

"It's not that!" Fergus said quickly. "It's… Well, there's certain people from who I'm trying to keep out of my, em,  _liaisons_ , and…"

"What Fergus is trying to say", Aziraphale interrupted, as he walked back to the table and put cup of tea in front of Castiel, "is that he doesn't want you to feel conflict in obligations between him and some of your friends."

Castiel frowned. "It's something you would like to hide from Dean and Sam?" he guessed.

Fergus sighed. "Here we go…"

Castiel thought it a moment before asking, "It… isn't hurting anyone, is it?" As all other three occupants of the room shook their heads, Castiel nodded for affirmation. "I understand. But… you'll let me know eventually… right…?"

"As soon as the other party is ready to do some confessions", Fergus assured, seemingly relieved when Castiel didn't question it further.

Relaxed atmosphere returned, and Anthony started to tell them about his latest improvements in what came to "tempting" human kind. Castiel sipped his tea and listened how he and Fergus started baiting each other while Aziraphale kindly reprimanded them before offering some more biscuits.

Castiel smiled fondly; what a family…

* * *

Days went by without bigger surprises. There was this little panic when it was found out that Aziraphale had lost something with a great importance, but he'd pleaded Castiel to not ask more about it ( _"It's bad enough that Fergus knows!"_ ), and Castiel had gave his promise to not look any further into it.

Then one day he and Anthony went to some auction and when they returned, the demon looked forlorn, like he'd just lost something irreplaceable. He smiled weakly at Aziraphale's attempts to cheer him up, and left home even when the older angel almost begged him to stay over nigh.

"He had a row with Fergus", Aziraphale explained.

"Is it serous?" Castiel asked, feeling worried; he didn't want to lose any parts of his new family.

Aziraphale shook his head. "They have these fights every now and then… It's best if we don't get involved; they always make up, eventually." But the older angel seemed as worried as Castiel did.

* * *

Few days after the auction Castiel then heard something he hadn't expected to hear ever again: quick, desperate prayer from Dean to come to see them  _at once_.

The angel fly to them immediately, appearing in the back seat of their Impala. "What is it, Dean?" he asked, worriedly, and was the thrown out of balance as the car made sudden, jerky movement.

"Jeez, Cass! Are you trying to kill me?!" Dean shouted, and pulled the car on the side of the road.

"I'm sorry; I thought that you wanted me to hurry."

"Yeah, yeah; my mistake. I'm never going to get used to people just – appearing out of nowhere like that!"

Sam looked over at Castiel. "Good to see you again, Cass. Sorry for bothering you like this, but…"

"We need to check Bobby.  _Right now_."

Castiel frowned. "Is he in trouble?"

"Possibly", Sam answered. "Can you take us in his current location? You haven't been there before, but –"

"Easily done", Castiel assured. "Right now?"

Dean nodded firmly. "Yes."

* * *

It took no effort from Castiel to move them all – himself, brothers and their car – in front of the secluded-looking little hut. Castiel frowned a bit as he saw the amount and range of different kinds of vegetables that grow everywhere around them; he hadn't known that Bobby was this good as a gardener.

As they walked through the yarn, Castiel made his best to not drink Dean with his eyes. It had only been couple of weeks, not even a month; in the past he'd often stayed far longer times away of the hunter's company, but now… now it felt like he was unable to steer his eyes away from Dean.

They arrived to the balcony, and tried to make as little noises as possible while they listened if there was any voices coming from inside; they heard nothing. "Let's move on in", Dean muttered darkly.

Inside the hut, they found Bobby – who was currently a bit busy, since Fergus was kissing him rather thoroughly, and it seemed that the old hunter had  _nothing against it_.

Castiel was still trying to process what it was that he was seeing here, when Dean interrupted the kind of cute picture by yelling from the bottom of his lungs, "HEY!"

The pair hurriedly stepped apart, Bobby looking both embarrassed and little scared, while Fergus glared them, probably testy about the interruption, before laughing with glee at their disturbed expressions.

"Have fun to try and explain  _that_  to them", the demon purred to Bobby with a playful smirk on his lips before vanishing with a wave of his hand.

Bobby turned to look at them; he still looked very flustered, but now less worried and there was determined look in his eyes that meant that he'd made his decision and would stick with it, no matter what.

_So, it was_ Bobby _who Fergus has been seeing,_  Castiel thought. _Well, at lest I now understand why he wanted to keep it secret from me… He probably feared that I would just blurt it out on the phone without even realizing that I was doing so…_

After that, it was a full chaos in the house: Dean started to demand answers, and Sam tried to get Bobby to "come back his senses", while the old hunter insisted that he knew what he was doing and besides, the boys had it all wrong.

"I had him trapped in the demon trap so I could ask few questions, and when I released him, he decided to kiss me because he knew that you were coming in and wanted to spook you a bit. And that's that!"

"Oh yeah? Then what was that what you said about Crowley visiting you regularly?" Dean pushed on.

"Just to make some company-! And I never said that it was regularly, I said that sometimes he pops in and –"

"Bobby, he's a demon; and not only that, he's the king of Hell. You shouldn't let him in your house –"

"Dammit, Sam, I'm not "letting" him to do anything!"

"So you try to keep him out, then? Well, clearly he's found the way to slip past you wards. Dean and I could –"

"My wards work just well! Don't get cocky on me boys, I've done this longer than you two have even existed–!"

"So you should know better than anyone that only good demon is an exorcised demon!"

"Now listen, you idjits –"

Castiel decided that it was time for him to open his mouth. "You really should listen Bobby, Dean; surely he knows what he's doing."

Dean turned to look at him. "You can't be serous, Cass! That was Crowley; he's planning something, he always do! I don't know how he's convinced Bobby to not sent him back to the Hell where he belongs to, but -"

"Dean", Castiel said, with a serious voice, "I know you don't like Fergus, and I'm not reprimanding you about it; but I'm asking you to remember, that  _I_  happen to consider him as a friend of mine, so it would be nice if you didn't bad-mouth him while I'm standing right in front of you."

Sam seemed horrified by that. " _Friend?_  Cass, you can't mean that…"

"I do; not only that, I live in the same house with an angel whose in stable relationship  _with his father_ , so we'd kind of need to get along just for that."

"Okay, when did you start to call him "Fergus"? And I admit that the demon with sunglasses is okay dude, but Crowley certainly hasn't took after him…"

"Fergus has helped you more often than worked against you. And yes, he's always took care that he gets something out of it, but what else can you expect? He's an opportunist."

"Cass…"

_How can it be that the most wonderful person in the world happens to be the most stubborn one at the very same time?_

"Dean. I'm not asking you to like him; I'm just asking you to give him a change."

Castiel and Dean stared each other in the eyes; finally, Dean threw his arms in the air, defeated, and turned to look at Bobby. "Fine! Try to keep a demon as a house pet; just don't come cry to me when he bits your hand off."

"Your approval warms my heart", Bobby grunted.

For a moment, they all just stood there, wary and unsure, before Sam cleared his mouth, "So, Cass… What was that about you living with Aziraphale? I thought you were staying in Heaven…"

Castiel didn't often feel need to curse, but now all he could thought of was  _oh, crap_.


	23. Of Bookworms and Other Bad Omens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has a run-in with Metatron, which leads him to encounter an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter. This story will be continued in the next installation of the series, called The Supernatural Family, that will be sequel to both this and The Unholy Family (so if you havent read it yet, this would be good time to do that).

The first bad omen was Abaddon, though no-one of them realized that at the time. Castiel only heard about the demons return in passing, and as soon as her name was mentioned it was already assured that Winchesters had taken care of her.

Then came the angel.

Castiel met him at a regular Friday afternoon, while he was doing the shopping. Aziraphale had finally given up of trying to get Castiel invested in the world of culinary pleasures, but he still insisted that the younger angel could at least go to buy groceries in his turn, of which Castiel had nothing against.

While in the shop, Castiel had stopped to look at the pies, thinking which one of them would have been Dean's favourite and if he should buy him one, some day; or maybe he could ask Fergus to teach him how to bake one, the demon had gotten quite talented with his cooking lately…

"That looks delicious", someone said behind him.

Castiel turned around and saw a short man with a curly graying hair smiling at him in what clearly tried to be calming way. The closer look told Castiel all he really needed to know: the man was an angel.

After seeing Castiel's expression turning to sour, the strange angel lifted his hands in to air. "I seek no harm", he quickly assured.

"Pardon if I find that hard to believe; I'm not in Heaven's good graces right now."

"Well, what do you know! Really? With all fraternizing with mortals, traitor angels and demons?" the angel said sarcastically. As Castiel frown got darker, he laughed nervously. "That's not I came to talk with you! Honestly! You see… I too haven't been in good graces with Heaven for a some time, myself."

Castiel was doubtful. "Really?"

"Really. But… Maybe not talk about it here? There's a nice café nearby… very good cherry pie…"

Castiel wasn't sure what it was in this angel that made him feel so distrustful. Even while he knew that the vast majority of his siblings wanted him dead, he would always give them a change… But now every nerve of his body was telling him to get as far from this angel as possible. Maybe it was his act, how he looked all harmless and nervous – too much so, in the way that made him feel insincere and…  _oily_. It somehow reminded him of Fergus, even though the angel lacked his regality.

"I'm sorry, I really need to go", Castiel said and took few steps backwards.

The angel sighed. "Really, Castiel? I thought you would have been little more inclined to listen what I have to say… Considering how messy the situation is upstairs right now, and how most of it is  _your fault_ …"

The reminding of his wrongdoings made Castiel squirm, and in any other situation he would probably have given up… but he remembered what Dean had said, about how he shouldn't do anything considering the situation in Heaven before consulting someone beforehand, and by that he'd meant someone he was close with.

"I'm sorry", he repeated.

The angel watched him with a disappointed eyes. "I see. You know, I could have helped you to atone your sins against our kind, but… Well, at least I tried…"

_You're not buying me with that tactic_ , Castiel thought dryly.  _I've lived with Fergus, and he's hundreds of times more effective salesperson than you…_

The angel huffed. "Well, if you change your mind", he said and took a business card from his pocket, offering it to Castiel, "You know who to contact."

Castiel looked at him cautiously before accepting the card. There was only a phone number and and one name written under it.

_Metatron._

When Castiel looked up again, the angel had already disappeared.

* * *

Castiel wasn't sure why he didn't mention his meeting with Metatron to his family right away. Partly it probably was because he didn't want to pointlessly worry them; but part of him had to admit that he was little tired to be handled like a toddler, unable to do his own decisions.  _I won't tell them, but I'm not contacting him_ , either, he assured himself.  _No harm done._

Then they all got other things to worry about when Abaddon escaped, and with a help of dukes and lords of Hell ("Hastur", Antony muttered darkly, and Castiel saw how his yellow eyes turned to green as poison), she took over the Hell, forcing Fergus to run for his life. They were all relieved to learn that he was now staying with Winchester's in their bunker, irritated and probably driving the hunters nuts with his barbs but at least safe, for a while.

Castiel visited him once, after he'd been on exile almost a week.

Any other time being this close to Dean would have taken all his attention, but this time all he could think about was his demonic almost-brother, who kept ranting for him about traitors (Abaddon and her allies) and idiots (AKA Dean and Sam, who had let that bitch to escape). Castiel juts sat there, listening and hoping that that was enough, since he'd no idea what else to say. He could understand the pain of being in exile, but he also know that for Fergus the worst part was his wounded ego and lose of his kinghood, not the lost of home itself – especially since he'd never considered Hell as a home, in the first place.

"All I did for them – rising them up from that mundane existence, giving place for ideas and innovation, leading them out of the Dark Ages to the present day world… And then that bint comes back, and they're all begging for her to drag them back to the pit!"

"All of them?" Castiel asked.

"Well, not  _all_ , maybe… I think that at least most of the younger demons prefer me over her; but it's not like they stood to help me, either! Those self-preserving bastards…"

"Well, maybe they'll come back to you, once Abaddon's rule gets them riled up enough to gather courage to work against her."

"Hah! Like I would take them under my wing ever again!"

_But you would_ , Castiel thought.  _You yearn too much their admiration and attention to deny them._

Of course, he hadn't said that out aloud. He had just nodded and listened some more, hoping that Dean and Sam weren't so close observing their conversation so that he could have given Fergus a hug, like the demon has once given for him, when they'd learned about Gabriel's death. Fergus would of course call it pointless, but Castiel know that he would like it; like he never shooed away his father when Anthony hugged him, and while he rolled his eyes, Castiel had seen how his whole body relaxed in the embrace.

So Castiel couldn't hug him, but before leaving he squeezed his hand, firmly, hoping that it was enough; and since Dean's daily phone calls after that contained much less complains about the demons behaviour than before, he presumed that maybe it did.

* * *

The Nephilim was found death in the alley near of Aziraphale's shop, her beating heart ripped out of her chest. It made them all little tense, and gave Castiel minor existential crises.

As an angel, Castiel had always held little to no love towards Nephilim, forbidden fruits of the love between angels and humans. But after he'd became close with Fergus, who, beside being a demon was also a Nephilim, he started to doubt his earlier acts towards their race. Was it really necessary to kill the children, innocent of their parent's crimes, just for the sin of sheer existence?

For that, he'd no answer but one… and it made him duck his head with shame.

Then the cupid was found killed near Anthony's apartment – nameless vessel with spread wings of ash - and this time Castiel was sure that this was no coincidence. Someone had leaved a message to them, the "I know where you live" kind of message. But who? Abaddon wouldn't waste time for games like this: if she knew where they (and especially Anthony) lived, she would already had attacked them, in hopes of torment the location of Fergus from them.

So maybe it was Heaven? Castiel knew better than anyone that killing wasn't as big deal for them as he'd once idealistically thought; but while he could understand them leaving a dead Nephilim for them as a message, the meaning of Cupid fell flat. If he was left there as a warning for traitors, should they had chosen someone they could recognize as one? It made no sense.

Castiel still had one suspect to take account, though…

* * *

"Aziraphale… what do you know about angel called Metatron?"

The usually so calm-looking angel's face adapted an interesting reddish tone and his eyes went hard and cold. "Why would you ask me about person like that?" Aziraphale asked, looking kind of furious.

Ah. Time for a white lie, then… "Dean has asked me of an outsight of the current powerhouses of Heaven. You think that he could be one? I know he used to be Scribe of God, so maybe he has enough leverage to become one…"

"I surely hope no! Last time he was in any position of power, he burnt down my bookshop!" Aziraphale huffed.

"In another timeline, angel", Anthony reminded before continuing, "There's no reason to be worried about him, currently; when Adam rewrote the world, he kind of… removed his privileges. I think he now left Heaven soon after He went to his, ahem, vacation."

"I see." Castiel still had hard time to wrap his thoughts around the fact that Antichrist really held such a power that it allowed him to bend the laws of cause and effect.

"And that's good!" Aziraphale said firmly. "He was really up to the Apocalypse, even more than Mikael at the time! And even before that, he was totally intolerable, always bragging around how he was Father's most trusted angel and how He told him secrets that were never revealed to us others…"

"Oh, come on, angel! The reason you truly hate him is because he dares to tell everyone that he has read more books than any other angel", Anthony teased him fondly.

"What a lie! He doesn't come even near… and the only reason he has read so much is because all he reads is rubbish that takes no brains or heart to understand…"

"Yes, yes… I'll just go and fix you a nice cup of tea", Antony told and winked at Castiel before making his exit.

* * *

After that, Castiel was halfway sure that Metatron was the culprit he was looking for. Only question left was what he should do with that knowledge.

Wisest thing would be to talk about it with someone; but, as Fergus often enough had said, Castiel was rarely doing the wisest thing. The demon himself was out of the question, and he didn't want to bring Aziraphale and Anthony into this, considering how his mere presence in the bookshop had already caused them enough troubles.

Then he thought about Dean, all the way across the sea, and how he would became all worried if Castiel told him the situation he was in, and would want to come and help him…

No, not that: Castiel wasn't some maiden in distress, who needed Dean to come and safe the day. He could handle this by himself.

Castiel twiddled Metatron's business card between his fingers…

* * *

They met each other on an abandoned building site. Metatron came alone, prove of either his sincerity or superiority, or of sheer arrogance. Castiel doubted the first and hoped for the last, but was afraid of the middle one.

"Why?" he asked right away. "Why kill the cupid?"

Metatron sighed. "You really aren't giving me a benefit of doubt, are you, Castiel?"

"No games, Metatron. What are you planning?"

"I already told you once, didn't I? I'm restoring the Heaven, giving a little lesson to those stuck-ups up There!"

"And for that you need to kill the innocents?" Castiel pressed on.

Metatron spread his arms and looked forlorn. "Great archives always need sacrifices, dear boy."

Castiel frowned at him. "You're disgusting."

"Ah, ah, ah! Don't play all high and mighty for me, Castiel! Didn't you, yourself, spilt the blood of innocents duiring your little power trip on godhood? How many of our brothers did you kill – dozens? Hundreds? I don't think that you're in any position to scorn me, boy!"

Castiel once again felt the weight of his past decisions on his shoulders, pressing his spirit down. "I –"

Metatron smiled at him benevolently. "See? We are no different, you and I. We both have high ideals, the vision of Heaven restored in it's full potential, ruling over the masses, spreading peace and justice to the world… It's our duty to remove the obstacles on our way, Castiel, to make that bright future come on true!" The angel reached his hand towards Castiel. "So what do you say? Will you join me, and pay back for your past mistakes?"

Castiel looked at the offered hand. It was… tempting, what Metatron was saying; change for redemption… But…

"I have made lots of mistakes; you're right on that… but… That won't mean that I have to do the same mistakes all over again, or let someone else to do so! Metatron, I've come to stop you!" Castiel let the angel blade drop from his sleeve to his palm.

The Metatron withdrew his hand, shaking his head with a sad and disappointed look on his face. "I see… Then Castiel, you leave me no choises… I would preferred to let you live on, but… You'll be the last trial." Metatron made a gesture with his hand, and Castiel felt a great pressure hammer against his chest, throwing him down and holding him against the ground. "Surprised? Did you think that I've no tricks on my sleeve, boy? I was the Scripter of God, his favourite son… Did you think that I was that powerless?!"

Castiel couched; he could feel his ribs cracking under the pressure.

"I have acquired the heart of a Nephilim and Cupid's bow… Now only ingredient I need to complete the spell is angel's Grace… Your Grace, Castiel", Metatron said, and knelt down beside him, looking at him with feigned compassion. "I'm so sorry, boy; I still think that we two would have made great deeds together." He put a hand into his pocket, pulling out an sizable injection needle…

"Hold it right there!"

Metatron whipped his head around, his eyes going wide as he saw group of angels surrounding them. "How…?"

Castiel couched a little more. "What took you so long, Hannah?" he asked with a tired smile.

Metaron turned back to glare at him. "You-!"

"What? Did you miscalculate? Thought that there was no angel left ready to aid me?"

"Release him, Metatron", Hannah stated. "You're overpowered." The other angels beside her held their angel blade's threateningly pointed towards the rogue angel.

Metatron looked livid, his vessel practically shaking from wrath; then, suddenly, he relaxed, and Castiel felt how the pressure pushing him down was lifted. Metatron sighed and shrugged his shoulders: "I know when to give up."

He seemed way too unconcerned for Castiel's taste, but other angel's were already tying him up so he had no time to complain. And then they were gone… all but Hannah.

"You took a great risk", Hannah said as she kneeled beside him, checking him for injuries.

"I knew you would come", Castiel answered.

"And that exactly what I meant! You couldn't possibly knew that I would come. Even after getting your message, I still waited to the last possible moment before deciding if I should help you or not…"

"But you did", Castiel reminded her. "I knew you would; I trusted in you."

Hannah looked at him with an inscrutable expression upon her face, before asking simply, "Can you stand?"

With Hannah's aid, Castiel managed to stood up. He cringed a bit of the pain caused by his cracked ribs, but was relieved since there seemed to be no further damages. "… You should go."

Hannah bite her lip. "You should come with me."

Castiel shook his head. "There's nothing left for me in Heaven, Hannah…"

"It's your home!"

Castiel remembered Heaven, all bright and white and full of Grace… and how stained, how  _poisoned_  It's heart had became, even though the shine still remained; and how they just kept on living, repeating their old customs never changing anything, never moving forward…

"No", he said, "not any more."

"Not even me?"

Castiel turned to look at her, surprised to see hurt look on her face. Tilting his head, he reached out his hand and touched her cheek. "Hannah…"

The other angel shook her head. "We need you, Castiel; me and the others. We're ready to fight on your side, once again…"

Castiel gave her a sad smile. "But I'm not ready for that; not now, maybe never again."

"Is it because how messed up it all went? You made mistake, Castiel! There's no shame admitting it; we still know that you're the one who can lead us…"

"To what? A civil war? … No, Hannah; please don't tempt me. I not the angel I once was…"

Hannah looked at him, her expression once again closed, voice formal and restrained. "No, you aren't, are you? You have lost your spirit… Condemned yourself into someone lesser that you could be…"

"If I have, then it was my decision to do."

"I could arrest you, you know? There are many in Heaven who would like to see you punished…"

"Then you do what you see right; I'm not stopping you, Hannah. I know my sins."

Hannah was quiet. Then, "I pity you, Castiel."

then she, too, was gone.

* * *

It went without saying that Aziraphale wasn't happy at all after hearing Castiel's little adventure. "For all silly things you could possibly have done-! Young angel, I should put you on time-out for that!"

"Angel, I really think he's outgrown the age when you can do that…", Anthony tried to calm him down.

"Hah! You only stopped to threaten Fergus with time-out when he became a king of Hell!"

"What has that to do with anything?"

Dean wasn't any better, once Castiel gathered enough courage to call to him.

"Cass! You promised me that you wouldn't do anything stupid!"

"But it wasn't stupid, Dean; I knew all the risk, and decided that it was worth of trying."

"You could have been killed! That Hannah could have decided to stood you up, and this Metatron bastards would have taken your Grace!"

"But…"

"And you even offered her to change to arrest you!" Dean shouted.

"But she didn't."

"But You didn't know that!"

"But I trusted in her."

He could hear Dean's harsh breathing across the line. "Cass", he finally said, now with much lower voice, "you need to stop taking risks like that. We could have lost you…"

"But…"

" _I_  could have lost you!" Dean shouted with hoarse voice. "Cass, don't make me lose you…"

"Dean, are you… Are you crying…?"

"Of course I'm not, you stupid little angel!" Dean cried at him. "You better learn to take better care of yourself, because next time you did anything as stupid as this, I'm going to come there and drag you back home with me, understood?!"

Castiel felt warmness fill himself, starting from chest and spreading thorough his whole body. "I promise, Dean."

* * *

As it happened, the next one to do something stupid wasn't Castiel; no, it had to be Fergus.

And once they had dragged the cured Nephilim in to his bed, Castiel took the phone and readied himself to tell the soon-to-be-panicked father that his son was currently unconscious, and they had no idea of in what state of mind he would open his eyes – that's it, if he would ever open them again…


End file.
